The Curator Chronicles
by HowlingRain
Summary: AU. A cult at Hogwarts? Harry's not the BWL, and he never expected to have to deal with more than his family problems, but befriending Neville, the BWL, and discovering a cult with Malfoy in first year means he'll have more than just assignments and Quidditch on his mind. Hogwarts needs him.
1. Y1: A Diagonal Path

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** **A Few Important Notes-**

\- This is an Alternate Universe story wherein Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived instead of Harry, and Harry's parents are alive. As such, you can expect characters to behave differently than they would canonically, because of their different positions in life.

\- This story will start with Harry's first year at Hogwarts and continue throughout the rest of his school career, possibly including 'eighth' year. (Yeah, I've got that much planned. lol)

\- Lily is not a good person in this story, but there is an explanation for this that will come later in the story or series. (Sorry Lily lovers)

\- Eventually there will be slash (male x male) pairings/couples in this series. However, this won't occur until the characters are older. The main pairing will eventually be Drarry (Harry x Draco / Draco x Harry), but Draco has to change and grow a bit first. Harry might date other guys before Draco too. Draco will always have a presence in the story though.

\- I doubt the rating will ever go past T, but if it does I will change the rating accordingly and inform the readers.

-Thanks for checking out my story! I hope you enjoy it!

\- Special Thanks to my dear friend MissMintCoffeeMocha for checking over this chapter :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 1:** A Diagonal Path

Settled on a gently rolling hill sat Potter Manor. The manor house was not especially large by manor standards. It did not have a ballroom, receiving rooms, a formal parlor, solarium, or other such excesses. That is not to say that the manor was more akin to a simple home, but when compared to other manor houses, Potter Manor was decidedly cozy. Warm colors of wood and fieldstone dominated the interior. The furniture was large and comfortable. It was still an impressive home, but by no means was it extraordinary in its assets.

Curled up in one of the large, brown, leather chairs in the library was one of those less-than-extraordinary assets. A smaller than average boy with untamable, jet-black hair and round-lensed spectacles carefully turned the pages of a book filled with images of dragons. None of the images moved, and only about half of them were done in color, but that didn't matter to the Potter heir. He gave each page his full and undivided attention, eyes of emerald green riveted to the artist's brush, pen, and pencil strokes with a longing desire to see them in their original form. It was probably his seventh time perusing it since Remus had sent it to him on his birthday, but his fascination with it had yet to dull.

When he reached the end of the short book almost five hours after he started it, the young Potter caressed the cover and sighed. He wanted to create images as beautiful as Rin Asita, but she was an extraordinary artist, and he was just Harry.

With that thought in mind, Harry put the book away amongst the section of shelves designated for art books with care before looking to the library's intricately carved grandfather clock. It was nearly noon. Harry frowned. His mother was supposed to take him to Diagon Alley today to get his school supplies. Not that he really needed her to go with him, but she'd told James that they'd be leaving this morning. It was possible she could suddenly show up, and they would floo to the Alley in the last few minutes before noon, but it was more likely that she'd completely forgotten after getting a letter from one of her many friends. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Pips!" Harry called.

With a soft crack, a young house elf with big ears and liquid brown eyes appeared wearing a chocolate-brown robe with close-fitting sleeves that bore the Potter crest. "Yous being calling Pips, young Master?"

"Yes, is Mother home?" Harry asked politely.

"No, young Master. Mistress Lily is being away visiting Mister Leopold," Pips replied evenly.

Harry thought for a moment. As far as he could see he had two options. He could go to Diagon Alley himself, or he could stay here and wait for his mother. Lily could be gone anywhere from a few hours to all afternoon though, and he really wanted to get his school stuff. Besides, she probably didn't really want to take him shopping anyway, and if he went by himself he could look at a lot more things. Harry smiled. He would save them both a lot of trouble if he went on his own. Lily wouldn't even be surprised, just glad she didn't have to take him. He'd just have to make sure he got home before his dad did.

Decision made, Harry asked Pips to ready the floo, which really only involved getting the floo powder down from the floo-room fireplace's tall mantle for him since he couldn't reach, while he changed his clothes to something more suitable for shopping in wizarding London than his everyday trousers and tunic.

••••••••

Harry ended up eating a sandwich for lunch first at the insistence of Pips' mother-elf Romy, then floo'ed into the Leaky Cauldron and sneezed the moment he stepped out of the fireplace. Floo powder always seemed to make him sneeze. Even when he managed not to breathe any in it tickled his nose. He couldn't explain why it happened, just that it always did and that is caused his mother's displeasure and godfather and sort-of-just-as-well-as godfather's amusement. It was also how Tom the Barkeep always knew when he arrived.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," Tom greeted him pleasantly from the bar, but with a touch of surprise and relief to his voice. "Need to get into the Alley today?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He smiled up at Tom as he dusted his robes off as best he could. "I'm going to get my Hogwarts supplies!"

"Oh, Mr. Quirrell here'll be one of your professors then," Tom said, coming around the bar and gesturing toward a man wearing a plum-colored turban who sat perched on the edge of a barstool.

"Really?" Harry directed towards Tom, and then turned to the turban-wearing man. "Hello, Professor."

"H-hello, M-mr. P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell said. He smiled and nodded awkwardly before standing in preparation to leave. "I-I'll be s-seeing you at sc-school then, I s-suppose." Harry nodded, confused at the professor's stutter, and Quirrell continued nodding before moving to walk past them. "I-I'd best be g-going. M-much to d-do before c-classes s-start, you know."

Quirrell walked past them, and Harry suddenly caught a whiff of garlic and some other smell and thought he understood why Tom had looked relieved when he arrived.

"Too bad, that stutter of his," Tom said once Quirrell was gone, "I think he was attacked by a vampire somewhere in Romania. Frightened his tongue into tangles. And the garlic! Anyway, shopping, eh? Are your mother and father meeting you?"

"No, Mother's with a friend today, and Dad's at work," Harry said.

A slightly strained quality seemed to come to Tom's face, but before Harry could ask if he was all right or if the garlic fumes had gotten to him, Tom was turning around. "Really? Well then, I'll let you right in."

Harry blinked in surprise, then followed Tom back to the disguised passageway and paid close attention as Tom tapped his wand against the bricks in a special sequence. Harry cheered internally when he remembered the pattern correctly and the bricks formed the passage to the Alley. Forgetting all about the tightness to Tom's expression, Harry cheerfully thanked Tom and took off down the passage and into the Alley.

The sights and sounds that embraced Harry the moment he stepped in the Alley sent a trill of excitement through him. Diagon Alley was always so active and energetic compared to Potter Manor. The bustling businesses and many people around had scared him the first few times he'd been there, but now he felt enlivened by the activity. Add to that his excitement at finally getting a wand, the official right of passage and acceptance to the wizarding community, and he was left wanting to run and cheer his way down the Alley and see everything there was to see. That wouldn't be appropriate though, so Harry settled for walking with quick steps and a bright smile.

He only had a few galleons of his own with him, so Harry knew his first stop would have to be at Gringotts, where he knew he had a trust vault that was supposed to become available to him the moment his schooling years started. His dad had even given him the key to it for his birthday.

The goblins standing guard in front of the white marble bank looked fearsome in their red-enameled armor. If Harry remembered his lessons with Professor Mercier correctly, red was the color of the Metalweaver clan, the clan that King Ragnuk the First, the maker of Gryffindor's sword, came from. They were also the clan that distrusted wizards the most. After seeing them, Harry decided to be extra polite today.

Walking into Gringotts' lobby, Harry was greeted to the sight of high ceilings and tall teller's desks with goblins of all stripes focused on their work, some of them looking intently at jewels while others fussed with papers and stacks of coins. On each of the goblins' persons Harry could find a splash of color announcing which clan each goblin belonged to. As with the guards, today's most prominent color was red.

Harry went up to the teller and waited. This goblin was also wearing red, and when it looked down to him with a look that clearly said, 'state your business', Harry quickly rattled off his greeting. "H-hello, I'd like to access my vault, please."

"Name and key?" the goblin asked in a slow drawl.

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said and pulled out his key and the goblin floated it up for inspection with a wave of his hand. After a short moment, the goblin glanced down at him and said, "It seems all is in order, Mr. Potter. Griphook will take you to your vault."

The goblin floated the key back down to Harry, and Harry marveled once again at how goblins could do magic without wands before remembering his manners. "Thank you, and may your enemies tremble in fear."

The goblin blinked in surprise before replying, "And may your vaults overflow."

Harry grinned to himself at getting his formalities right, then turned to Griphook and prepared himself for the crazy underground ride he knew was coming.

••••••••

Back out in the Alley, Harry could still feel the rush from the underground cart ride mixing with his astonishment of how much money was in his trust fund. It had to be a small fortune. He was also pretty sure Griphook had made the ride back even faster because of how Harry had enjoyed the ride down. Now Harry had to put that behind him and focus on buying his school supplies and returning home before his dad did.

Pulling out his school list, Harry decided that, first things first, he needed to get his uniform. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was conveniently located near the bank, so Harry walked over and went in with the jingle of a bell announcing his presence. He hardly had time to speak before enthusiastic Madam Malkin herself had him standing on a pedestal with a plain black robe thrown on while she went about quickly pinning it to the right length.

On the pedestal next to Harry's, a boy with slicked-back platinum blond hair stood with another witch pinning his robe to the proper length as well. His skin was nearly as pale as Gringotts' marble façade, and his features were rather pointed. Harry wondered if he should say something, but a couple things held him back. He'd never really talked to people much, and especially not to someone his age, so how was one supposed to go about it? Then there was that the boy looked sort of familiar, but Harry couldn't place him.

"Hello," the blond said suddenly. "Hogwarts too?"

Surprised, Harry simply said, "Yes."

"Ah, well, my father's already off buying my books and my mother's looking at cauldrons, but I want to look at the racing brooms," his voice was a slow drawl that practically oozed 'upper class', but a faint flush of pink was slowly building in his cheeks. "I don't see why first years can't have their own brooms. I think I'll make my father get me one anyway, and I'll smuggle it in."

Harry just stared at him. How did he plan to smuggle in a broom? Unless he could get someone to cast a shrinking charm and undo it once he got to school it wouldn't exactly pass unnoticed, plus it would be difficult to hide while at school too.

Harry must've taken too long to reply, because the blond started talking again by asking him a question, "What about you? Do you have your own broom?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "but it's just my dad's old one from school. He won't let me fly his new one." That was true. Harry was a pretty good flyer, seeing as it was one of the few things his dad enjoyed doing with him on the rare occasions he got free time. However, no matter how brilliant Sirius claimed he was when his godfather came over and saw him fly, and no matter how many times Sirius whined, 'but James!' and argued that Harry wasn't a sickly little child anymore, his dad would not allow him to try flying the Cleansweep six he used for work.

"Play Quidditch at all?" the blond asked.

"Only seeker's games." Harry almost added, 'because I don't have anyone else to play with' but stopped himself. He didn't want to sound like he had no friends, even if it was true.

The boy got a strange, guarded look on his face, one that seemed to be a mix of suspicion and calculation. Then the witches pinning their robes distracted them by asking them to take the robes off. To Harry's surprise, the blond was wearing clothes underneath the robe similar to his: leather boots, trousers tucked into the boots, a tunic (though his was long sleeved to Harry's short sleeves), and there was a lightweight, open-front, summer robe without sleeves that could be seen draped over a chair to the side that would go over the ensemble. The only real difference was that the blond's outfit followed a dusty blue and black color scheme while Harry's followed a golden-yellow and brown one.

The witch working with the blond then threw a basic, black winter cloak over his shoulders, fastened it, and started pinning it to the right length while Madam Malkin put another robe on Harry. Harry had to hold back a sigh when he remembered that the list said three sets of robes, so he'd have to go through this pinning business for a lot longer than he thought. At least the pins were enchanted in a peculiar way that sent the already pinned robes straight to being sewn and then dropped into the pile waiting for them.

"Seeker's games, huh?" The blond asked as soon as the witches had them arranged how they pleased, "I want to be seeker for my house team. Do you know what house you'll be in yet?"

"I'm expected to be in Gryffindor," Harry said in a slightly lower tone. According to James, the Potters were always in Gryffindor. Sirius, Remus, and Lily had all been Gryffindors as well. Harry wasn't actually sure he was brave enough to go there though. He didn't think he'd ever done anything particularly brave before, and his tutor, Professor Mercier, always praised him for being smart, not brave. Maybe the hat would want to put him in Ravenclaw.

The blond was looking at him funny again.

"I'll be in Slytherin. My whole family's been in Slytherin, after all. Of course, you don't really know until you get there, but if I ended up in Hufflepuff I think I'd leave." The way he raised one eyebrow suggested he was silently asking, 'Would you?'

Harry thought for a moment. "I don't know, I doubt my parents would take me out of school or anything, but I don't think I'll end up there, so I probably won't have to worry about it."

The boy gave him another sort of calculating look as the witch working on his clothes had him take off the cloak and sewed it up before beginning to wrap his purchases in brown paper. "You're probably right," he said. The witch gave the blond his package of clothes and told him she'd ring him up at the front. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said with a nod after hopping off the pedestal in preparation to leave.

Harry blinked, finally recognizing the blond from his picture on the Black Tapestry in Sirius's house. He nodded in return, "Harry Potter."

Then it was the young Malfoy heir's turn to blink before he turned away, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts, then."

After that, Harry spent the rest of his time at Madam Malkin's pondering the somewhat rude Malfoy heir, particularly the odd searching looks he'd given him at times. When he finally broke free from the clutches of clothing, he was still so lost in his thoughts of potentially making a friend that he walked both into the alley and into Remus Lupin.

"M-moony!" For a moment, Harry felt terror spike through him. He wasn't supposed to be here alone. He was supposed to be here with Lily. Lily would be furious if he got her in trouble for being with a friend instead of where she said she'd be. There'd been a couple close calls like that before where he'd almost given away that Lily had gone out with friends. She'd punished him for that. He didn't want to be punished again.

"Harry, what are you doing here? Are you all right?" Remus asked his shaken sort-of-just-as-well-as unofficial godson.

"I-I'm fine," Harry lied, trying to master his sudden fright and mostly succeeding. "I'm shopping for my school supplies. What are you doing here?"

"Shopping for school supplies? That's right, you do get to go to Hogwarts this year." Remus put on a smile, but for some reason it looked strained. "Where're Lily and James?"

Harry put on a smile too and did his best to make it look mischievous. "Not here. Mother got distracted and was taking forever, so I came without her!" Then he added as an afterthought, "Dad's at work."

"Harry," Remus scolded, "you should know better than to come to the Alley by yourself. It's dangerous for children to run about alone in such places. What if you'd gotten lost or been hurt?"

Looking down at the ground, Harry mumbled, "I've done it before and nothing's happened."

Remus's sharp werewolf hearing must have caught that because he sighed and asked, "How many times?"

Harry shrugged. He'd lost count a while back, but it was more than a few times, usually to go to the bookstore where everyone was too encouraged by the sight of a kid looking at the books to ask him why he was there alone.

Remus sighed again. "Come on, let's get you home."

"No!" Harry burst out, surprising himself. "I've gotten through the bank and buying robes by myself, but I still have to finish the rest of the list! Please, Moony? I got the money out of my own trust vault, can't I finish my shopping first?"

Remus looked at Harry for a long time, a string of emotions warring on his face before he gave in. "All right, you've already gotten this far, I suppose you should see it through." Harry cheered. "I'm coming with you though," he finished with a raised brow.

Harry gave him a brilliant smile and grabbed his arm, "Let's go to the trunk store next! Then we can put all the stuff I buy in it instead of carrying all the bags."

This time Remus's smile was genuine, and Harry, determined to keep it that way, turned to chattering about the art book Remus had sent him for his birthday.

As they went through the next stores, Harry realized it was a good idea to have Remus along. The werewolf knew all sorts of things about picking out the right equipment and even the best ingredients for his potions kit. He didn't let Harry look at the new Nimbus 2000 sitting in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies though.

When they went to Eeylopes Owl Emporium Remus wasn't much help. Other than the basic attributes that all owls had, he really didn't know much about them, so Harry was left to his own judgment. He walked slowly up and down the darkened aisles, looking into the rows of cages set on tables and hanging from the ceiling filled with flashing, golden eyes. Some seemed a bit too excitable, flapping their wings and hooting loudly. Others a bit too standoffish, they ignored him or looking down on him imperiously. Some just didn't catch his eye, all dull brown, soft grey, and muted reddish colors.

Harry began to wonder if it was worth it to get an owl. They were expensive. Most families only had one owl, or used the postal service instead. Then he rounded a corner and a beautiful owl caught his eye. Perched calmly in a cage hung from the ceiling, its feathers were a black and white combination that created a stark contrast against each other, which reminded him of Rin Asita's ink drawings.

After moving closer, he read the tag that hung from the cage-bottom. She was a female snowy owl, a year and a couple months old, and a tad on the expensive side. Harry battled with himself, but he couldn't resist her allure. She was gorgeous, and even if she did seem a little aloof on the surface, he could detect a bit of curiosity in her brilliantly gold eyes. Reaching his decision, Harry waved Remus over to get the cage down and then went to the counter to pay for her.

"What are you going to name her?" Remus asked as they left the shop and began walking to their last stop, Ollivander's, where Remus claimed that he, Harry's dad, and Harry's mum had gotten their wands.

Harry was quiet for a minute, looking at the bird contemplatively. "I don't know yet," he finally said, "maybe I'll find something in my school books to call her."

Remus seemed surprised; undoubtedly he'd expected Harry to name the bird almost immediately and for it's name to be something based on how it looked. Privately, Harry thought names like that were rather silly.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. was a little shop that had a wand sitting on a faded velvet cushion in the window. Harry had always marveled at the shop when he'd visited to the Alley, but he'd never gone inside. He could feel how the magic permeating the Alley flowed differently here. The magic seemed to go calm and still. It whispered and drifted here rather than the humming and swooshing of the rest of the Alley. He'd held back from entering before because he hadn't had an excuse to go in, but now he did.

A little bell from above the door jingled when Harry and Remus entered the narrow shop. Dust motes floated silently in the air, causing Remus to sneeze as he set down Harry's purchases and sat in a rickety chair usually reserved for the parents of the shop's most common patrons. Harry moved up to the counter and looked around the shop in mild awe. High shelves were chocked full of long, thin, rectangular boxes, many of which wore a liberal coating of dust, and Harry could hardly believe that each of those hundreds of boxes held a wand inside. The quiet calmness of the magic Harry could detect outside of the shop had a different feel to it now. There were soft murmurs and gentle hums filling the air and floating about in a seeking manner. Some of the tones were harsh, while others were barely a sigh.

So entranced was Harry by the magic in the small shop that he didn't notice Mr. Ollivander's arrival until the silver-eyed man was right in front of him and looking down at him with a sharp analytical expression. "Mr. Potter, here for your first wand, eh?"

Harry jumped slightly with startled surprise and nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"And who do you have with you? Ah, Mr. Lupin! Cypress and unicorn hair, ten and a fourth inches, pliable, if I remember correctly," Ollivander rattled off, and Harry stared at him in shock.

"Yes, sir, that's right," Remus said with a smile. "It's served me well."

"Do you remember every wand you've made and who you sold it to?" Harry asked with wide eyes, and then added, "Mr. Ollivander," as he remembered his manners.

Ollivander blinked down at him owlishly before answering. "Indeed I do. Your mother's wand was ten and three-quarter inches as well, rather long and swishy that one, made of willow, excellent for charm work. Your father's wand was a bit more powerful, mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, a strong wand for transfiguration."

Harry was so astonished that he gaped at the wandmaker.

Ollivander chuckled and flicked his wand, causing a tape measure to fly off the counter and begin measuring him. "Well, let's see what wand will choose you, eh?" Ollivander said, and then disappeared amongst the shelves. He returned moments later with a small stack of boxes and flicked his wand again, causing the tape measure to zoom back to its place on the counter.

"What do you mean, 'what wand will choose me'?" Harry asked as Ollivander debated over which wand to try first and then seemed to pick a box at random. He didn't know much about wand lore. He'd never covered it with Professor Mercier, and, though he knew every person's wand was special to them, he'd never heard why that was.

"Wands are tricky things," Ollivander explained. "Their different woods and cores bind together and create a sort of personality, if you will. Just like people, some personalities don't mix well with others, so it's my job to find which wand will accept the personality of the wizard they're to be paired with. Which arm's your wand arm?"

Harry, trying to absorb this new information about wands, automatically held out his right arm, and Ollivander handed him a wand while extoling its make-up. The moment the wand touched his skin, he felt a sort of unpleasant tingle run up his arm. It was uncomfortable, awkward even. Harry knew in just those few seconds that he didn't like the feel of this wand.

"Well, give it a wave," Ollivander said.

Harry did, but he felt rather foolish doing so and nothing happened.

Ollivander snatched the wand away and handed him another one, but the same sort of thing happened again, only this wand felt a little angrier than the last.

The next two wands Harry didn't even get to wave, he touched them, felt the same feeling of discomfort, and Ollivander snatched them away before disappearing into the stacks once more.

Ollivander's next batch of boxes was more varied. Harry got a range of different feelings from their magic, from uncomfortable to heavy to frightened to something cool and slimy that made him shiver and set the wand down with respectful caution. As they went, Harry started to despair at all the bad vibes he was getting, but Ollivander grew more cheerful and thoughtful, paying closer attention to Harry's facial expressions and physical responses to each wand while muttering happily about tricky customers.

It wasn't until the counter was cluttered with piles of boxes and Remus had stepped out to get them all some ice cream that Harry was chosen by a wand. Once Remus had left, Ollivander went to a particularly dusty shelf of boxes and slowly withdrew a few. He brought them back to the counter and laid them out in the last clear space that still remained. Leaving the lids on the boxes, he looked intently at Harry.

"You can feel some of the magic." Ollivander tapped the side of his nose in a knowing manner. "Now, these are some of my trickier wands to place. Most of them are projects I experimented with when I was younger. I want you to try out the one you feel most drawn to."

Under Ollivander's watchful eyes, Harry focused on the three boxes in front of him. Now that he had a task rather than the frustration and desperation that came with being handed a wand and having it snatched away, Harry stepped out of the rather bleak mood he'd gained after going through so many wands unsuccessfully. His curiosity was piqued. He was a tricky customer, as Ollivander said, so it only seemed right that he would need an equally tricky wand.

The boxes on the counter all looked the same, but even through the boxes Harry could feel the wands' magic reaching out in a probing way. To try and get a better feel of it, Harry held a hand up, and moved it over the boxes. The left box felt sort of shadowy and mysterious. Its voice was an intriguing whisper of things unknown. The middle box felt different in a strange way. The magic around it felt solid, yet graceful, but sort of quirky as well. It had a very soft hum that still somehow conveyed a thrum of power. It also had a sort of grasping quality to it, like it wanted to grab him. The box on the right was quiet in a sort of secretive way. He couldn't feel much else from it, like it had put up a guard against him.

It was the grasping quality of the magic that emanated from the middle box that caused Harry to reach out and open it. If a wand was supposed to choose its wizard, then it made sense that the wand might be trying to get him to pick it up. Upon opening the box, Harry was greeted with a wand coated with a dark stain that had a slight reddish tint to it as well as a lighter, more honey-colored carving that, upon closer inspection, proved to be the image of a dragon placed slightly above the wand's extra dark and near seamlessly smooth grip.

The magic called to him even more strongly with the box open, and Harry suddenly understood that this was his wand. He reached in and picked it up. Delicious warmth spread through him at the contact that settled like a flame in the center of his chest along with a sense of belonging and a sort of snap that he attributed to the wand binding itself to his magical signature.

"Well, well, how curious," Ollivander mumbled, then raised his voice, "Larch wood and phoenix feather, eleven inches, supple, stained with dragon's blood." Ollivander chuckled, "One of the works from my experimental days. With it's peculiar nature I wasn't sure if it would ever find a match. You must be in for an interesting life, Mr. Potter." The door opened, setting the bell to jingling, and Remus walked in with two ice creams. "Ah, Mr. Lupin! We think we've found one!" Ollivander said cheerily before turning back to Harry. "Well, now that you've found it, why don't you give it a wave?"

This time, Harry didn't feel nervous or uncertain when he waved a wand. This wand, he knew, would do whatever it was that it was supposed to. He gave it a wave, and glittering little dragons came out of the end. A blue one and a brown one went into a dive and skimmed across the floorboards while a red one and a green one shot up high into the air to weave through the rafters. A purple one landed on the counter and let out a roar of vibrant sparks. A white one and a black one spun through the air together at mid-height, racing each other and doing tricks.

Harry watched it all in amazement. Ollivander clapped joyfully. Remus stared gape-mouthed. After a few moments, the dragons burst into a cloud of smoky sparkles before fading out of existence.

Harry was ecstatic. "Did you see that, Moony? Did you see it!"

"I saw it! That was brilliant, Bambi," Remus praised.

"Yes, that was quite something," Ollivander agreed. "It will be interesting to see what other quirks this tricky wand has in store for you, my tricky customer. Most wands just shoot off sparks when they accept a wizard."

"Then why didn't this one?" Remus asked, eyeing the wand in Harry's hand.

"Ah, this one's from my experimental days. It's a bit unique."

"I'll write you about anything else different it does, if you want me to," Harry said excitedly.

"I would very much appreciate it, Mr. Potter."

••••••••

Harry hardly remembered the rest of his trip through the Alley; he was too excited about his wand and distracted by the treacle tart flavored ice cream Remus bought him. Remus tried to encourage him to store his wand safely in the messenger bag he'd gotten for carrying his books to classes, but Harry didn't want to let it leave his person, so Remus took him to buy a leather wand holster before leading him back into the Leaky Cauldron. There, Remus took him to the fireplace and watched with a troubled expression as Harry floo'ed back to Potter Manor with his school supplies in tow.

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of _The Curator Chronicles_! There's a lot of stuff being set up in this chapter, and I hope I didn't lose anyone in the traditional 'Harry goes to Diagon Alley and gets his stuff' sequence. I also hope I changed Draco's lines enough; it was hard with how simply 'Draco' they are. Anyway, please leave a review! Constructive criticism is welcome, especially on the structure of my story, and you're free to leave as little as a smiley or frowny face if you want. And let me know if there are any spelling, grammar, or formatting errors so I can fix them.

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	2. Y1: Spells and Lies

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Hello and welcome to chapter two! If you didn't read it before, you might want to check out the Important Notes in chapter one's A/N. Otherwise, enjoy the story! Special thanks to MissMintCoffeeMocha for looking over this for me :). And another special thanks to Elizabeth Stanley for being this story's first reviewer! Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 2:** Spells and Lies

Harry spent the rest of the summer reading his schoolbooks and becoming acquainted with his owl, he'd named her Hedwig after a witch from out of his schoolbooks, and his wand.

Neither of his parents returned home the day he went shopping in Diagon Alley. Pips told him that his mother had returned for a short time, but that after getting a letter from James telling her that he would be away for a while on Auror duty, she took off to visit friends again.

Harry didn't mind. Being one of the people in the running to become the next Head Auror, James was away for special missions at least once a month. During those times, Lily was usually away as well. Harry was used to it. After all this time, it was almost relaxing really. He didn't have to worry about accidently revealing that his mum wasn't around all day to his dad during the evening meal.

Harry never got lonely either. The house elves weren't much for conversation, although they did let him help in the kitchen if he badgered them enough, but when Harry wanted to be around another living creature he now had Hedwig, he could floo to Diagon Alley for ice cream, or he could go out to the stables.

Potter Manor had always had stables, two small stone buildings with enough room to house a total of ten horses, but they had remained empty for some years before Charlus Potter, Harry's great-grandfather, had seen fit to buy a trio of winged horses to race his friends with. The Aethonan horses were old now. Their once lustrous chestnut coats had turned white and silver along much of their bodies, their feathers were dull, and they'd lost the strength to fly or carry a rider over the past two years.

Harry loved them regardless.

He usually spent an hour or two with them everyday, but when both of his parents were gone for an uncertain amount of time, Harry would sometimes spend the entire day with them. He'd wash them, brush and curry their coats, clip broken feathers and smooth others, bring them treats, and read to them. They each had their own fancy name that Harry's grandfather had given them years ago, but to Harry they were the good old boys Ace, Dash, and Blaze.

Today had been one of those days.

After bathing, combing, and fixing their feathers, Harry had read to them out of _Hogwarts: A History_. Even though he thought he was reading a very interesting section about the castle, seeing as it talked about the possibility of the founders having built secret rooms, rumors of a cult that wandered its halls, and suspicions about dark magic classrooms being hidden in a maze under the dungeons, the winged horses slept through most of his reading. The sleepy horses gave Harry an idea though.

He rummaged in the messenger bag he'd taken to carrying almost everywhere with him, and pulled out _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk. There was a spell inside known as the softening charm, and Harry wanted to try it to see if he could soften the old horses' bedding so that they'd be more comfortable on the rare occasions that they didn't sleep standing up.

It took Harry a few tries, but on his fourth time, Harry did the wand movements correctly while carefully pronouncing _spongify_ and imagining what he wanted to happen, and the bail of hay he was aiming at for practice became soft and rubbery just like the book said. Which meant it was time to test how bouncy it was. With a whoop, Harry leapt onto the bail and found himself bouncing up high enough to touch the rafters. It might have been a low building, but that was, unfortunately, much too bouncy to cast on the horses' bedding.

Still, Harry was pleased with the fact that he'd successfully cast his first spell, and with his wonderful wand, no less! He wondered if he should write Mr. Ollivander about it, but seeing as the charm worked like normal he thought it would be silly to bother him. The only issue now was that he didn't know how to undo it. Luckily, Pips did know when Harry called for him, and the bail of hay was put back to rights quickly. After that, Harry lay back on the hay under an old saddle blanket with the schoolbook and tried to teach himself the wand-lighting charm. After a few tries Harry successfully cast this spell as well and his wand emitted a startlingly bright white light. Thankfully the book also told him the counter-charm, which turned out to be even easier to manage than the spell it countered.

It wasn't long before Harry was muttering, " _Lumos_ " to read more of _Hogwarts: A History_ to the winged horses as it got darker. About half an hour later, Harry fell asleep in the hay and the light went out by itself.

••••••••

The next day, Harry woke up to a call of his name and a shake of his shoulder. He jolted up amongst the hay to see his godfather, Sirius Black, looking at him with a crooked grin on his face.

"What's this, Harry?" Sirius asked with a familiar and comforting joking tone to his voice. "Sleeping in the hay like a stable hand, reading and casting spells for the horses' entertainment?"

"Padfoot!" Harry gasped. He threw himself at the man and hugged him firmly. With little hesitation, Sirius returned the hug, and Harry felt a little something click inside of him that told him he was safe. It was a feeling he only got when he was around his dad, Sirius, and Remus. A happy sense of contentment came over him, and he bound to his feet. "What are you doing here? Guess what? I got my wand and other school supplies now, and I even cast two spells and a counter-charm!"

"Two spells and a counter-charm? Really? That's great, Harry," Sirius said with a wide grin, "but you'd better be careful you know. You're not really supposed to practice magic outside of school. When you do they send big, bad Aurors like me."

Harry instantly grasped why his godfather was here and why he was wearing his burgundy Auror robes. He hung his head. "That's why you're here?"

"Yup, sorry, Bambi. I don't think they caught that you cast more than one spell though, they just have the softening charm down on the list, and I only came because I was curious as to why it showed up on the list at all."

"But, if I cast magic I wasn't supposed to, why wouldn't it show up on the list?" Harry asked.

"Well, let me tell you a little secret," Sirius whispered conspiratorially. "The Trace that keeps track of if kids cast magic they aren't supposed to only works when the kid's the only one at a place that can cast magic. You could cast a spell with me here and the Trace wouldn't be able to tell if it was me casting it or you, so you can cast magic when adults are nearby."

Harry didn't respond. His brain was already shooting along paths the Trace opened. His magic wouldn't end up on the list if an adult were near when he cast it, but it had ended up on the list because there weren't any adults home when he cast it, so Sirius would be wondering why he was home alone.

"Where is Lily anyway, Harry? I asked the house elves, but all they'd tell me was that she wasn't home."

Sirius was watching him closely so Harry bent down to retrieve his books while he answered, hiding any expression that might give him away. "She went to visit friends," Harry told him. It wasn't a lie.

"And she left you alone all night? That spell was cast late yesterday afternoon," Sirius said with slight surprise.

"It was an emergency," Harry lied, then added, "and I am elven years old you know. I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't," Sirius laughed, then his voice turned curious, "Do you know when she'll be back?"

Harry shrugged and went with the best thing he could think of. "It was an emergency, she left in kind of a rush."

"Ah," Sirius said, "Well then, I'm sure she'll be back before James gets home. He should be back before supper if he finishes all his paperwork in time. In the meantime, what do you say to some Quidditch?"

"Dad's coming home?"

Sirius frowned. "Well, yeah, he sent a letter a few days ago saying he'd be back sometime today."

"Oh, Mother must have forgotten to tell me about it," Harry lied smoothly, knowing his mother hadn't simply 'forgotten', then took off jogging for the manor. "I'll meet you at the shed once I put my books away!"

"Sure!" Sirius called back with a confused tone to his voice.

••••••••

Somehow, Harry managed to steer Sirius clear of the topic of Lily's whereabouts all day. However he couldn't stop his godfather for making fun of his 'hay hair' due to his night in the stables or from asking why he'd ordered the elves to let him sleep there if he fell asleep there. Apparently his answer that it was calming was silly because Sirius just laughed at him.

After a few hours of playing seeker's games with the new practice Snitch Dad had bought for his birthday, a bit of midair catch with the Quaffle, and Sirius teaching him a few moves his dad wouldn't, they had lunch, and Harry showed him all of his school stuff and chattered on about what he'd learned from _Hogwarts: A History_ before Sirius chimed in with information of his own that wasn't in the book. They had progressed to Harry showing Sirius the spells he'd learned out on the lawn with Sirius critiquing them and going on to teach him a charm to change things different colors when Lily returned home.

Harry could feel the tension crackling in her magic as she strode out of the manor and onto the lawn in fine green robes that brought out the color of her eyes and made her reddish hair look like fire. He knew that was a bad sign, but he tried to pretend that everything was all right. "Mother!" Harry called, "Look! Uncle Sirius is teaching me spells!" He prided himself on the fact that his voice didn't waver.

Lily's own voice wasn't quite as smooth. "Sirius, what are you doing teaching the boy magic outside of school? Isn't underage magic illegal, Mr. Auror?" Lily scolded with a slight quaver.

"Aw, Lils, it's fine," Sirius said. He smiled rakishly at her. "He's with me, after all."

"Right," Lily said uncertainly, "and what are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd stop by to hang out with Harry until James got home. I didn't expect to find him home alone though. Is everything alright?"

Lily stilled slightly. "Oh yes, everything's fine. I just had to help a friend with something." She was facing Sirius, but her eyes were on Harry as she spoke.

Harry shrunk slightly under her gaze, but kept his head up and a smile on. He feverishly wished for Sirius to say the right thing.

"Ah, well that's good. Harry said you got called away for some kind of emergency?"

There was a brief flash of relief in Lily's eyes at the provided context. "Yes, Mrs. Hutchinson bought one of those new breeds of vampiric plants and it kept attacking her cats. It took a bit of work, but we finally managed to charm it not to," Lily lied.

Harry blinked at her in astonishment. Mother had come up with some rather interesting reasons for her occasional absences in the past, but vampiric plants was the wildest yet. Harry glanced at Sirius to see if he believed it.

There was a distance in Sirius's expression, but Lily didn't seem to notice it with how she was looking at Harry from the corner of her eyes. Then Sirius let out a low whistle. "Wow, Lils, tangling with vampiric plants to rescue kitties in distress, sounds like a real adventure."

Lily forced a laugh. "I suppose it was. Now I guess I'll go see what the house elves have in mind for supper." She leveled a stern look at Sirius and Harry. "You two don't get into any trouble. Especially you, Sirius."

"Me?" Sirius affected a look of wide-eyed innocence. "When have I ever gotten into trouble?"

Lily rolled her eyes and walked away, "Whatever you say, Sirius. Oh, and no more spells! That's what Hogwarts is for!"

Harry watched his mother carefully as she left. Her initial anger had dissipated. He could tell by how her magic had calmed. She was still tense though, and would likely round on him with demands to know everything he'd told Sirius whenever she managed to get him alone.

"No more spells," Sirius sighed once Lily was out of earshot, "but they're so fun!" He smiled his crooked smile down at Harry, and Harry felt some genuineness return to his own smile. "Guess we'll just have to do something else then!"

An idea came to mind and Harry grabbed ahold of Sirius's hand and pulled him towards the shed. "Come on! I know exactly what we can do!"

••••••••

After several rather spectacular crashes and some interesting color changes, Harry and Sirius managed to get their kites to stay in the air for longer than two seconds. Harry had used the color changing charm Sirius had shown him to turn Sirius's kite pink. The spell didn't quite work correctly though, and it ended up being pink with orange polka dots. Sirius had gotten his revenge by transfiguring Harry's kite to look like a constipated owl.

Pips popped onto the lawn to inform them of James's return just in time for the poor house elf to be nosedived by Harry's constipated owl kite. Pips ducked just in time for it to miss his head and crash in front of him. Sirius laughed uproariously, while Harry shouted an apology and asked if Pips was hurt. Thankfully he wasn't, and Pips put the kites away while Harry and Sirius ran up to the manor to welcome James home.

"Dad! You're back!" Harry shouted when he ran into the kitchen and saw James Potter standing by the sink in his shirtsleeves, his Auror robe thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and no sign of injury.

"Harry!" James quickly set down his glass of water and kneeled down to catch Harry in a hug. "I missed you! What've you been up to? Did you get your school supplies?"

Still in the circle of James's arms, Harry looked up at his dad's bright hazel eyes and slightly scruffy face. His eyes were clear of any pain or weariness, much to Harry's relief, and so Harry gave him a big smile. "I did! I even got to do spells with my wand! Padfoot taught me!"

"Padfoot taught you, eh?" James raised his gaze to where Sirius was leaning in the kitchen doorway. "Spells already, Sirius? What are you doing here?"

"What? Does a man need a reason to hang out with his godson?" Sirius huffed indignantly.

Harry hadn't realized he'd tensed at the question until he'd relaxed after Sirius's response. He didn't want to be in trouble with his dad for casting magic, and he didn't want more attention than necessary to be drawn to the incident since Sirius hadn't mentioned it to Lily.

"You know, Prongs," Sirius continued, and made a quick motion with his hand that Harry thought seemed rather familiar, but couldn't place. "I think our little Bambi could be a master duelist if being a Quidditch star doesn't work out. He's already mastered three charms and a counter-charm."

Harry looked up to see his dad's reaction and watched James blink dumbly at Sirius in apparent surprise. "Four spells? And mastered them, you say?"

"Well, his color changing charm still needs a little work," Sirius grinned his crooked grin, "but I would call the others mastered."

James opened his mouth to respond, but Harry didn't get to hear what his dad thought of his spellwork because Lily walked into the kitchen at that moment. She wasn't wearing the fine green robes anymore. Rather, she wore a simple green and white dress that cried out 'pretty housewife' and 'young stay-at-home mum'.

"Supper's ready," she told them. She was wearing a demure smile that Harry only ever saw when Dad was home. "I've set a place for you too, Sirius."

"Thanks, Lils," Sirius said before heading for the dining room.

James gave another light squeeze before he released Harry from his hug and walked over to his wife. He wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Let's go, Lily-blossom."

Harry quickly skirted past them and went after Sirius. It was weird seeing his parents act lovey-dovey like that.

The dining room was just across the hall from the kitchen. It was a rectangular space with a bay of windows across one of the short sides that looked out over the pasture and provided a distant view of a pond filled with blooming water lilies. Two of the dining room's other three walls held tapestries of vibrant feasts, while they wall opposite the windows was home to a china hutch that contained old examples of Potter family pottery that had faint wisps of magic hovering about them. The table was of a warm brown wood when it wasn't covered by a tablecloth, and could hold a dozen people. Everyone sat at the end closest to the window to look out while they ate.

Harry was, admittedly, always a bit nervous about this part of the day. Evening meals were generally considered 'family time', where they would catch up on each other's day, or days if James had been on a trip, and it was also the time where Harry often had to practice his skills at lying. He didn't like lying to his dad, and he was always worried he'd slip up and say something that would make Lily mad. As such, he never ate much at supper. His stomach was in too many knots due to his apprehension about the production, particularly this production. There were so many things that could go wrong.

The meal went smoothly at first. James and Sirius discussed the basics of James's Auror mission, which was a combined effort with the French Ministry to catch a rising illegal potions dealer that was selling to children and went off without a hitch. Harry chattered for a bit about the horses, the art book Remus gave him, and how excited he was to do magic with his new wand. He carefully avoided talking about the trip to Diagon Alley itself, although it was hard. He really wanted to tell his dad about how special his wand was, but knew from past experience that getting into specifics when his mother hadn't been somewhere she should have been was a bad idea. Then Lily spoke about how her days went in the brief, unexciting manner she'd perfected over the years.

It seemed like everything was going smoothly. Harry finally started to relax and actually enjoy the delightful Potter Family Secret Recipe Stew when Sirius brought up something Harry'd hoped he'd forgotten.

"Aww, come on Lils, I'm sure it wasn't that dull," Sirius said, "what about your adventure with the vampire plant?"

"A vampire plant," James queried.

Harry looked to his mother. Lily had lost a touch of the color in her face, and if it weren't for the fact that this could make or break his next experience alone with her, Harry would have taken the moment to ponder how someone with as many tells as his mother could hide her continued absence from the house to visit friends from his dad. As it were, he gulped and tried to keep an interested look on his face.

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot," Lily chuckled a trifle weakly. Then she wove her story. "Mrs. Hutchinson floo'ed me in a state of panic yesterday evening. She'd accidently purchased one of those new vampiric plants that are on the market; not realizing it was a blood-drinker. She got it home, and it started attacking her cats. The poor dear was terrified and at a loss of what to do, so I floo'ed over and helped her deal with it." Lily frowned, but Harry could tell even without knowing the truth that it was fake. "The poor tabbies were terrified. It took a good deal of work to get them all rounded up and shut in her bedroom before we could come up with a solution for the plant." She paused.

"What did you do," Sirius asked, leaning forward in anticipation. He was always interested in a story.

Harry wondered what she was going to say. Even though her acting skills left something to be desired, in Harry's eyes at least, he couldn't deny that she knew how to tell a good story, once she got going. It was a skill she was well practiced in. Even her pause was designed both to increase suspense and give her time to come up with a good idea.

"Well," Lily continued, "I have to say that I have never met a more stubborn plant. It wouldn't take a single spell. We spent most of the night trying to figure out what to do. In the end, we didn't get a spell to stick to it at all. Instead, I cast a variation of the disillusionment charm on each of the cats and it seemed to work. We could still see them, but the plant couldn't sense them." She ended with one of her best smiles.

James clapped. "Bravo! You've still got it Lily-flower. Smart as ever!" The brilliant smile his dad wore was difficult for Harry to see, and he glanced down at his stew to avoid it.

"What do you think, Harry? Is your mum great or what?"

Harry looked up at Sirius. He was sitting across from him, next to Lily, and had an expression on his face Harry wasn't sure how to describe. It was sort of curious, but in a strange way. Quickly schooling his features, Harry looked at his mother and dad and said, "Can we get a vampire plant?"

"What would you do with one of those?" James laughed.

Letting his imagination run wild, Harry came up with his response. "I would dress it up like Dracula from that muggle book, with a dark cloak around its pot and a cool amulet. Maybe a top hat too. It could have a bunch of little vampire plant babies and it could be a vampire master with its army of minions."

Everyone blinked at him for a moment before the image that would make seemed to register in their minds and Sirius and James broke in deep, breath-stealing laugher. Lily had a sort of dumbfounded expression on her face at first, but couldn't seem to stop herself from snickering as James and Sirius continued to laugh heartily. Harry, on the other hand, flushed so red in embarrassment that the color spread down his neck and quite possibly reached as far down as his chest.

To Harry it felt like they laughed forever before they finally calmed down. Of course, Sirius instantly began plotting this vampire-plant uprising of Harry's and the mood was kept light and fun for the remainder of the evening.

••••••••

Not long after Harry went to bed that night, the door opened slightly, causing a stream of light from the hall to fall across the scarlet bedcover and awake the dragons on Harry's Quidditch poster for the England National Team. Harry sat up and put on his glasses to see James standing there, looking a bit sheepish. "Dad?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to bother you," James said.

"That's okay, what is it?"

James walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the door cracked open to allow a bit of light in, but not much. "Just wanted to tell you goodnight," James said softly. He had a gentle smile on his face, and he lifted a hand to run through Harry's hair.

Harry sighed, melting into the touch. His scalp was very sensitive, though James seemed to be the only one who'd discovered that. The touch was immensely relaxing. However, Harry wasn't sure why, but something seemed different about his dad all of a sudden. He fought back against the mushiness his thoughts wanted to turn into thanks to his dad's loving hands in his locks. "Is everything all right?"

The smile James wore didn't falter, but something in his eyes seemed to flicker. "Yeah, everything's ok. I just wanted to see you. I don't get to much with how busy work is these days."

Though he wouldn't have been sure how to explain it, Harry could tell without a doubt that everything was not all right. The flow of James's magic gave it away. Without knowing what was wrong though, Harry didn't know what to do to fix it. Instead he asked, "Do you want to see my wand?"

"Yeah, what does it look like? Did you find it right away at the store or did you have to try a few out first?"

"I had to try loads!" Harry said cheerfully while reaching over to his nightstand to grab it. "I was starting to think I wouldn't ever find one and even Moony was looking worried before I finally found one that wanted me." Harry missed the expression of confusion that crossed James's face as he looked down at his wand holster while he pulled his wand out of it. "See! Isn't it cool?" Harry said, looking up again and holding the wand for his dad to see as he spun it around slowly. "What do you think of the dragon carving? Cool, right?" Harry said, quickly bouncing back. "Mr. Ollivander said it's one from when he used to experiment. It's made of larch wood, phoenix feather, and the dark coating is dragon's blood!"

James's startled eyes were wide now. "Wow, that's really something, son."

Harry smiled. "I can do the wand-lighting charm, do you wanna see?"

Chuckling, James answered, "No, not anymore tonight, Bambi. It's time for sleep now."

"Aww," Harry sighed, but put his wand away.

James took his glasses off for him and set them on the nightstand next to his wand. He ran a hand through Harry's hair again after he'd lain down and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Dad." James got up and walked to the door. Before he could leave, Harry let some of the words that had been festering in him all night out. "Dad?"

"Yeah," James said, stopping gin the doorway.

"I missed you." Harry could feel the weight of the words as he spoke them, and he wondered if his dad could too.

"I missed you, too." James paused. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, Dad. Goodnight." Harry snuggled down into the bed.

"Goodnight," James said, stepped out, and closed the door.

Without the light from the hall, everything in his room was dampened with silver by the full moonlight filtering in through the window. Harry took a deep breath and sighed as he let it out. He looked out at the moon. Books he'd read about werewolves said the moon was not only part of their curse but also part of their gift. With a thought to Remus, Harry asked that it keep his Moony safe tonight. Then he drifted off to sleep.

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If anyone's wondering when Harry's going to get to Hogwarts, that will happen in chapter four, so we'll be there soon. There's just a little of summer left for Harry, and it's pretty important. Anyway, constructive criticism is welcome and so are smiley or frowny faces! Let me know if there are any spelling, grammar, or formatting errors as well so I can fix them.

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	3. Y1: Blue Birds and Big Questions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Here's chapter 3! It's a bit later than I wanted to get it out, which I blame my brother using all of our internet data on, but it's here now. So enjoy! Thanks to Ern Estine 13624 and Guest for the reviews on chapter 2 :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 3:** Blue Birds and Big Questions

A few days before he would be making the journey to Hogwarts, Harry had his last tutoring session with Professor Mercier. James had already left for work. Lily had gone to visit a friend after firmly reminding him yet again that her trips were no one's business but her own, and that Harry had better not tell anyone about them or she'd lock him in the attic closet with the boggart. So Harry was left with frightening thoughts about the closet upstairs and only the house elves to say goodbye to before he floo'ed over to the professor's home.

Harry stepped out of the redbrick fireplace and into the small floo room just off the entryway. A charging ball of grey and black fur ran into the room and slammed into his legs, twining around them and purring loudly. "Good morning, Tally," Harry said, reaching down to stroke the happy kneazle. "Where's Professor Mercier?"

Tally darted to the door and meowed. Harry smiled and followed her as she led the way through the house, her tufted tail held high as she went. The halls they walked through and rooms they passed by were brilliantly cluttered. Artifacts and souvenirs the professor had collected from around the world during the travels of his youth covered the walls and any available counter space. He had everything from swords, staffs, and shields to vases, figurines, jewelry, tapestries, paintings, and paper documents that were carefully framed. Harry could swear he saw something new every time he visited because of how much there was.

He dropped his messenger bag off in the cabinet-lined room Mercier used as a classroom and allowed Tally to lead him through the house and out the backdoor, taking him toward the aviary. The flagstone path and surrounding gardens, many of them filled with statuary and landscaping details from foreign countries, were damp with recent rain and a few grey clouds lingered overhead. Sedgwick, a knarl that had made its home on the professor's property poked its head out from under a bush and twitched its nose at Harry in greeting. Harry responded with a good morning to the hedgehog-like creature and Sedgwick went back under the bush, presumably to rest until it was time for his nocturnal activities.

The aviary was a large, Victorian styled, octagonal structure of metal fencing with a decorative roof. Little specks of blue could be seen fluttering about inside amongst the greenery. Mercier was inside as well, wearing galoshes, denim jeans, and a royal blue tunic with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. On his right forearm, six tiny, blue, speckled birds sat silently.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said in French as the retired Beauxbatons professor preferred when he neared, "How are the jobberknolls today?"

"Oh! Harry! Is it time for our lesson already?" Mercier responded, also in French, and turned to him with a bright smile that turned his whole face to crinkles. He had a wildly curly mane of iron-grey hair that stopped at his shoulders and a closely trimmed beard and mustache combination that was white as snow. His eyebrows were like hoarfrost and made his pale blue eyes shine like a clear winter sky. "I always loose track of time when I'm with the birds. Come in! Come in!"

Harry went in, leaving Tally outside, and going through two sets of doors, a precaution against any of the birds escaping. Mercier chattered away while he entered,

"The jobberknolls are looking well today. I think they actually enjoyed the rain last night," he chuckled, "I can see why, everything always seems so fresh and clean after a good shower."

Once Harry was inside the aviary, a few of the jobberknolls quickly flew over and settled in his hair. Harry smiled and spoke to them, "Hello to you too, little beauties. You still like my hair do you?"

Mercier guffawed, "I think they just like you in general!"

It was true. Nearly the instant Harry had his arms held out, several more jobberknolls shot out of the branches to settle on them. Harry still found it strange that none of the jobberknolls made even the slightest peep, since jobberknolls only made noise when they died by making every noise they've ever heard backwards, but he'd come to enjoy the peculiarity of the bright blue birds.

Harry smiled, but it was tinged by a little sadness. "I'm going to miss seeing you while I'm at Hogwarts."

Mercier looked at him with eyes that spoke of many years experience. "Ah, but you'll also be having new adventures," he smiled softly, "and we'll be here for you to visit and write to."

"I'll do that," Harry said, "I hope all the professors at Hogwarts are as brilliant as you."

Mercier laughed. "Well, I'm sure most of them are quite good at their subjects, but," he suddenly looked rather serious, "you'll have to watch yourself in your A History of Magic class. I do believe they still have that ghost Binns teaching. From what I've heard, his class is more of a naptime than a real jaunt through history!"

Harry's smile widened. History was Mercier's specialty, and he'd been in charge of the A History of Magic classes during his tenure at Beauxbatons. Mercier's history lessons were no boring read a chapter, write an essay, and listen to a lecture, they were exciting and engaging. His professor would wear clothes styled after the era they were discussing, reenact famous duels, and bring maps to life to explain battle strategies from the Goblin Wars. He would miss those lessons.

Harry was jolted out of his memories of past lessons when Mercier said, "You know, if you have any trouble with that class you can write me, Harry. I'll recommend extra books and help explain things if you need it."

"Really?" Harry gasped. "Thanks so much, Professor!"

"Oh, don't go thanking me. It's the least I could do for my favorite pupil," Mercier said.

After taking in his professor's words, Harry beamed. To be called Mercier's favorite pupil was a huge honor, for the man was rather selective in his students. He only took a few on at any time, and they were generally quite bright.

"Well, that's enough time out in the damp air for me." Mercier flicked his fingers and the jobberknolls took their cue to fly off his arms. "Let's go inside so I can review you work while we talk about how excited you are for Hogwarts."

Harry grinned sheepishly. He was excited to talk about going to Hogwarts. He just couldn't help it. With a flick of his fingers that perfectly mimicked his professor's, Harry asked the jobberknolls to fly away, and they did, though the ones on his head took a few of his hairs with them, likely to use in their nests. Mercier chuckled as Harry rubbed his head after that, and they excited the aviary and went back to the house.

Walking toward the grey, stone house, one could finally see its beautiful gothic features. Though not as large as some of the grand manors purebloods of today had, that the house, or, really, small castle, had actually been built in the latter half of the period when gothic architecture was at its peak was a testament to how wealthy and influential the Mercier family had been in the past. Since then the home had undergone many renovations to update it to today's wizard standards technologically. A few stylistic changes had been made over the years as well, although the core elements of the gothic architecture remained, most notably in the gargoyles that perched on the home's roof. Several times over the years Harry had heard his professor bemoan the loss of some of the more intricate carving that would have graced the building at the time of its construction.

Mercier left his galoshes by the door, and they went inside. Staying on the main level, they went to the classroom, and Mercier took a seat while Harry rummaged through his new bag for his final assignments. While Mercier checked his work, Harry told him everything he was excited about Hogwarts for. He was excited to watch the Quidditch matches, and learn spells and more complicated magical theory, and to explore the castle. He admitted his nerves about what house he'd be in and if he'd make any friends.

Then he told him about meeting the Malfoy heir on his shopping trip in Diagon Alley and how strange it had been to talk to him, especially with how his parents said the Malfoys were a bad family, but Draco Malfoy hadn't really seemed bad or anything. Mercier had nodded at that and said families were often complex and difficult to understand. Harry discussed his wand next. Mercier was intrigued by the dragon blood, and said he thought larch wood and phoenix feather suited him well. He joked then, about how Harry seemed to have a bit of an obsession with dragons. Harry blushed at that, but couldn't deny it. Something about them drew him in.

Once the assignments had been marked, Mercier showed Harry how he'd done. He did well, like usual, only having trouble with the more difficult questions, which Mercier explained to him now. When that was done, Mercier leaned back in his chair and gave Harry a proud look.

"I'm glad to have had you as a student," Mercier told him.

Harry smiled. "I'm glad to have had you as a teacher."

"I've got something for you," Mercier said, "a bit of a congratulations for doing so well and being such a good student."

Harry watched with excited suspense as Mercier went to one of the cabinets lining the walls of the room and pulled out a slim, black, leather-bound book with silver buckles holding it shut. He set it on the table in front of Harry and said,

"Do you know what this is, Harry?"

Silently, Harry examined the book. He could feel there was magic in it, some sort of ward, perhaps. Upon opening it, Harry found that it was filled with blank pages and the inside of the covers had a series of warding runes imprinted into the leather on the edges. He thought he knew what it was now, and a smile built back on his face. "A personal grimoire?"

"Correct," Mercier said. He held a hand out, and Harry gave it to him. Mercier's eyes were shining as he began to use his 'important lecture' voice. "It is tradition that when a teacher feels a student is ready, they, not the family, will give a student their personal grimoire. It is a journal and a workbook. A place to put the struggles and joys of daily life as well as the knowledge of the arcane gleaned by its holder. Other spellbooks may be made, project notes may be taken elsewhere, but in the end much of that knowledge will reside here. It is, in effect, the collective history of its holder." Mercier paused. "You are receiving it earlier than most, but I think you are ready." Mercier looked very serious, but his eyes were alight with happiness. "It gives me great honor, Harry, to present you with this grimoire. It is my hope that it will be your able companion for many years to come."

Mercier handed the book back, and Harry took it with respect and awe. "Thank you," was all Harry could get out. "I- Thank you." Harry ran his hands over the smooth black leather and wondered what kind of secrets it would come to hold for him. He knew his dad had one, though he hardly used it, but Sirius carried his with him wherever he went. "What am I supposed to write in it first?"

There was a chuckle, and Harry looked up to see his professor wearing bemused expression. "That's up to you," Mercier leaned forward on the table, "but you might want to start with your name."

Harry blushed and started laughing. Mercier laughed along. When it died down, Mercier asked, "How much do you know about grimoires?"

"No much," Harry said, "only a little bit that's come up when I was reading other books."

Mercier nodded, "Well, I guess I'll fill you in on the basics then. First off, never willingly let anyone else into your grimoire. Not anyone. Ever. Not even your soul mate, should you have one, rare as it is these days. You should probably write in more obscure languages if there are people around while you're writing in it as well. A personal grimoire belongs only to the one who owns it. It is of great disrespect to even attempt to open or read another's grimoire while they are alive, no matter whom they are. Even if the person is dead and a member of the family, a personal grimoire must be handled with the upmost respect."

Harry nodded. He hadn't read any of the Potter grimoires before because they were kept in the family vault at Gringotts, but he understood the principle. If he used the grimoire like his professor had described, it would hold a lot of personal information in it. Potentially humiliating information too.

"Second," Mercier continued, "a personal grimoire, when used often enough and long enough, will develop a sort of personality that matches their owner. It will organize itself in a way that is easiest for their owner to understand and find things, and it will protect itself in a way similar to how its owner would respond to an attack."

Harry frowned. "Like what?"

"Mine, for example, freezes the hands of anyone trying to open it," Mercier explained with a rather smug expression on his face.

Harry blinked for a moment, then, "That sounds about right."

Mercier laughed. "Anyway, the last important thing you should know about grimoires is that they grow with use. It looks thin right now, "Mercier gestured toward the book. It was only a couple centimeters thick. "It will automatically add more pages and get thicker as you use it. After a while it will reach a point where will stop growing in physical size. The number of pages will continue to increase, as you need it, though. How big it will end up depends largely on your preference after it figures out what you like."

"Wow."

"A good gift?" Mercier grinned.

"The best!"

"Well I'm not done yet, I've got one more thing for you." Mercier rose and stepped to another cabinet.

"What?" Harry said in surprise, "But you've already given me so much!"

"Don't complain about getting gifts," Mercier chided lightly. He pulled out something wrapped in navy blue cloth and bought it to the table.

Harry watched in suspense as Mercier set whatever it was down gently in front of him with a slight clunk. Mercier folded back the cloth and revealed a dagger in a sheath made of dark wood. Harry reached out and picked it up slowly, then took hold of the grip and pulled out the blade. It was smooth steal, double-edged, and about twenty centimeters long from tip to hilt.

"You've been doing well in your practices, so I thought it was about time you had a real weapon to train with," he set a small brown pouch on the table next to the cloth, "and I figured you'd need the tools to take care of it too."

Harry sheathed his dagger and set it on the table before getting up and throwing his arms around his professor in a fierce hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he chanted.

Mercier just smiled, ruffled Harry's hair, and suggested they get some lunch.

••••••••

When Harry floo'ed home after saying his goodbyes in the early afternoon he was surprised to find Sirius in the manor without Lily or James home. Pips informed him of his godfather's presence before he'd gotten a chance to dust himself off. Harry felt himself pale at the information and took off running for the living room without thinking to ask Pips why his godfather was there.

Harry practically flew into the living room and rushed over to Sirius, who was sprawled across the couch with the newspaper laid across his legs and his Auror robe draped across the back of the couch. "Padfoot!" Harry shouted. He came to a skidding stop in front of the couch and began looking him over while talking quickly, forgetting that he was still speaking French. "Are you hurt? What are you doing here? Has something happened? Is Dad alright?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Harry," Sirius said in English, swinging his feet off the couch and taking ahold of Harry's shoulders in a firm, reassuring grip. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Your dad's fine. Everything's alright."

Harry felt swamped with the relief that struck him at Sirius's words. He took in a deep breath then let out a great sigh. In the next instant though, Harry felt his eyes get hot and tears started running down his face.

Sirius's face showed pure confusion for a moment, but then he pulled Harry to his chest and hugged him tightly. "Shh, it's ok. Everything's fine."

Harry wasn't quite sure how long he spent wrapped in his godfather's strong arms, but eventually the tears stopped and he was able to pull himself away and sit on the couch next to Sirius. When he was confident his voice wouldn't waver too badly, he asked,

"So why are you here?"

Sirius chuckled. "You can stop speaking in French now, you know."

Harry blinked and switched to English, "Oh, sorry."

"No, that's all right." Sirius seemed awkward now that he wasn't hugging Harry. He clasped his hands together in his lap and twiddled his thumbs a bit. "Well, our mission for the day got done early, and James got stuck with the paperwork. Since I didn't have anything to do after filling out my report, I figured I'd stop by to visit you. James said you'd probably be done early with your tutoring session anyway since it was the last one, so I thought I'd hang out here and wait for you."

"Oh," Harry said, rubbing at his eyes and feeling childish and stupid for crying so easily for something as simple as that, "I was worried... You don't usually show up on days you work unless something bad happened."

"Yeah? Well, don't worry too much," Sirius said, reaching over to rub Harry's back. "Your dad and I are the best of the best of the Aurors. Besides, the worst thing that could happen to James today is a load of paper cuts from all the forms he has to fill out."

Harry managed a weak laugh and reached for his messenger bag. He wanted to show Sirius dagger and tell him he'd gotten his personal grimoire. Before he could do either, Sirius spoke.

"Hey, Harry, you won't happen to know where your mum is, would you?"

A chill ran through him, and Harry could feel the blood trying to leave his face again.

"The elves wouldn't tell me. They just said that 'Mr. Black be minding his own business'," Sirius ended by impersonating the squeaky tones of a house elf in a comical manner, but Harry wasn't laughing.

"Uh," Harry searched for something to say. "Well, I was at my lesson. She probably decided to run an errand while I was gone. Or maybe she went out for lunch with one of her friends." He could tell that Sirius was watching him closely, so he kept his head down and rummaged around in his bag like he was looking for something. He hoped Sirius wouldn't remember that he liked to keep his belongings organized and so there would have been no reason for him to rummage for anything.

"I spoke to Moony yesterday," Sirius said nonchalantly.

Harry went still, not even breathing, and hoped Sirius wasn't going to say what he thought he was.

"He said he saw you in the Alley when you went to get school supplies. Did you really sneak out to do it all by yourself?"

Harry forced a mischievous grin to his face and looked up. "Yeah, Mother was taking too long and Dad was at work, so I thought I'd go myself. Neat, huh?"

Other than a slight glint in his eyes, Sirius didn't look amused. "What was taking Lily so long that you couldn't wait for her?"

"She was, umm... talking to a friend. They were going on and on, and I didn't think they were ever going to stop talking," Harry said, wishing he sounded a bit more confident.

"She does that a lot, does she?"

Harry swallowed nervously. "S-sometimes."

"What's she do the rest of the time she's home then?"

Harry racked his brains for an answer, something, anything, his mother did while she was at home that might be able to fill out a whole day. He didn't know what that could be though. She was hardly ever home for a full day, and when she was she usually stayed in her room. "She reads a lot," Harry finally said, but it sounded like a poor answer even to his ears. "She likes to read the _Witch Weekly's_ articles the best," Harry began inventing, "She likes to go for walks on the grounds, too." That wasn't enough to fill out a day, but it was all Harry could come up with at the moment.

"Do you ever read or go for walks with her?" Sirius looked honestly curious.

"N-no," Harry said. "I'm usually doing other things, or reading at other times, or going to lessons."

"Huh," Sirius looked contemplative, and that worried Harry, but then his lips curled into his crooked smile and said, "So how much trouble do you think we can get into while she's gone?"

••••••••

Harry spent the next few hours doing almost everything in his power to distract Sirius from anything that could possibly lead to questions about Lily. He was constantly on edge, waiting for his mother to return and give him that angry look that promised punishment. He would have warned her if he'd known where she was, but he didn't, and neither did the house elves. An owl, even if he'd managed to write a letter without Sirius seeing, would likely have taken too long to reach her.

Almost four hours later, Lily returned through the floo wearing fancy purple robes. She walked into the living room where Harry and Sirius were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table playing chess, or attempting to. Sirius had his back to the doorway, but Harry had a perfect view of her coming in. Harry instantly knew from the pressure of her magic that she was angry. He flinched and ducked his head so she wouldn't see his fearful look when her gaze swept over him.

"Sirius? What are you doing here?" Lily's voice had that same slightly strained quality it always did when she was presented with unwelcome surprises.

Harry glanced up to see Sirius giving him an odd look. Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Sirius keep looking at Harry as he responded to Lily with, "Just dropped by a few minutes ago. I thought it was time to teach Harry how to play chess. Great game for in the common room at Hogwarts, you know."

Harry was sure at least some of his relief showed on his face. He didn't know what Lily would have done if she'd found out Harry had been alone in the house with his godfather for almost four hours when she was only supposed to be out to lunch with friends or running errands. Something flickered in Sirius's eyes, and Harry was suddenly certain that his godfather had caught the look.

Sirius turned to face Lily. "James should be just a bit longer. He had a few more forms than me to fill out. Do you want to play a game?"

"No, that's quite alright," Lily denied, much to Harry's relief, "I have a few things to put away, then I'll be overseeing the house elves for supper. Will you be staying?"

"Sure! Sounds great," Sirius readily agreed.

A twitch of a scowl tugged at Lily's lips, but then she smiled again. "Good, I'll go get things ready." She left in a flurry of purple skirts.

Sirius returned to teaching Harry how to play chess, but he was much more subdued now, clearly thinking over what had just happened. Harry wished he wouldn't. He had a terrible feeling things were going to go downhill from here.

••••••••

As it turned out, James didn't come home that night. Sirius was called into the office to rejoin him for an urgent case. The house elves quickly summoned a picnic basket and loaded enough food for the two lords to eat while they were briefed. Sirius told Harry not to worry because they were the best Aurors out there and disapparated to the office with a cheery smile and the picnic basket in tow.

Lily then rounded on Harry and demanded answers about Sirius's visit. Not wanting to make her any angrier, he followed along with Sirius's lie, assuring her that he'd only been there for about ten minutes before she returned and that he'd told him she'd left to run an errand and would be back soon.

After receiving her information, she stomped off, ordering the elves to deliver her food to her room as she went. Harry ate alone at the dining room table. He sat at the end closest to the cabinet with the Potter pots in it, picking at his chicken and eating slowly as he tried to calm himself. The wispy magic around the pots and cabinet was a bit agitated today though, humming unpleasantly and adding to the tension from the day, which left him too tightly wound to relax and enjoy his meal.

When he was done, Harry thanked the elves and took his messenger bag up to his room. In his bedroom, Harry put his bag down next to his school trunk and realized he should probably pack soon. He wasn't in the mood to do it tonight though, and ended up dressing in his pajamas and plopping down in the center of his queen-sized bed with a groan of frustration. He was worn out, but didn't feel like he could sleep. He was angry with his mother and, if he admitted it, Sirius as well, for being there at the wrong time and asking questions, respectively. His day had started out perfect with Mercier's gifts and acknowledgement, and now it was ruined.

Thinking of Mercier reminded him of the grimoire. His professor had told him that it was supposed to be a journal and a workbook, a history of himself, and he'd read that writing out your problems could be soothing. He hadn't wanted his first entry in his grimoire to be negative, but maybe if he wrote out what was happening and how he was feeling, he'd be able to relax.

Harry got up and took the grimoire out of his bag. He brought it to his desk and sat down. He got out his favorite emerald green ink, the same color as what his Hogwarts letter came in, and a new quill. He unbuckled the book and opened it. As if sensing his intent, square-lettered words appeared on the top half of the first page in black ink that read: Property of.

Harry slowly dipped his quill in the green ink, and then let the excess drip off. He wanted to be sure he got this just right. Taking the quill to the page, he wrote: Harry James Potter.

The surprisingly crisp and clear cursive letters glowed a brighter green for a moment as the grimoire accepted them. The square-lettered font of 'Property of' changed to a nicer, slightly fancier, one, and the ink dried with a faster speed than Harry had ever seen it before. He turned to the next page, and wondered how many pages he should leave open for a table of contents. 'Table of Contents' appeared in the black ink along the top as he thought it. Harry blinked in surprise, then turned a couple of pages, which also had the same title appear on them as he passed them. Then he stopped and wrote the date on the top of a page. A number one appeared on that page at the top and bottom corners in black. With nothing else left to do, Harry started writing:

 _Dear Grimoire, I hate to start out on a negative note, but there's something I have to tell you..._

 **A/N:** Next chapter we go to Hogwarts! From there on out Harry will experience a mix of plot from the books and my own stuff. So what did you think? As always constructive criticism is welcome and so are emojis and whatnot! Let me know if anything needs fixing too, this time it's only me that looked this chapter over for errors.

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	4. Y1: Hogwarts: Expresses and Entrances

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Thanks to Ern Estine 13624 and Guests ScoutSirius and Yuki for the awesome reviews on chapter 3 :) And for everyone who celebrates it, Happy Thanksgiving!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 4:** Hogwarts: Expresses and Entrances

September 1st found Harry at Platform 9 ¾ early. James had to plead to get off work in order to see him away to his first year at Hogwarts, and even then he hadn't completely escaped his job. James was now the day's Auror in charge of making sure any muggles who wandered onto the platform were either redirected before they saw too much, or had their memories altered. As such, the Potter family had to be at the station early, and James was dressed in the muggle-looking version of his Auror uniform that consisted of a burgundy ensemble of waistcoat, trousers, and leather jacket. Lily didn't like the extra waiting around, but there wasn't much that could be done about it.

Harry thought it was brilliant. He got an up-close look at the bright red engine without anyone blocking his view. The train driver even let him board the engine and look at the part it was driven from. Then he got to watch as the platform filled with people. However, as more and more people showed up Harry started to get nervous. There were a lot of people. He'd never even seen Diagon Alley so full. It made him uncomfortable and he stepped closer to his dad. It wasn't until Harry bumped into him that James noticed how close he'd gotten.

"Alright there, Harry?" James asked, putting a hand on his back.

"There're a lot of people here." Harry hated how quietly his voice came out. He didn't get out of the manor much except for his lessons until he'd started sneaking out to Diagon Alley. He'd been sick for a long time as a small child, and his parents hadn't taken him much of anywhere as a result. Once Harry had been older and better they still hadn't gone out much of anywhere together other than a few trips to the magical and muggle shopping districts and once to the theater to the muggle movie _Bambi_ when he was eight, and which resulted in his nickname. James's Auror work took up a lot of time and he usually just wanted to relax at home when he wasn't busy. Lily was gone a lot already then too. It had taken him a while to get comfortable in the bustle of Diagon Alley, the first time he'd hid out in the ice cream parlor until he'd managed to acclimate himself a bit. He wondered how he was going to manage Hogwarts if it was always as busy as this.

Understanding sparked though James's eyes. He moved his hand to run his fingers through Harry's hair. It had a near-instant calming effect, and Harry relaxed into it. James smiled. "It'll be all right. Might take a bit of getting used to at first, but you won't be the only one with that problem, and before you know it it'll seem strange when there aren't many people around."

Harry nodded. "Ok, Dad."

James checked his watch. "Well, you've only got half an hour to go. Why don't you take your trunk and Hedwig and find yourself a compartment. It'll start getting really busy now that it's almost time to go."

Harry sighed, "All right." He wasn't feeling too excited about going to Hogwarts anymore. Suddenly all he wanted to do was stay with his dad.

"Hey, Bambi," James said. Harry looked up. His dad's eyes were kind of sad. "We'll see you at Christmas, alright? Until then, just try to have fun."

"I'll miss you, Dad," Harry said and hugged his father.

James hugged back. "I'll miss you, too. Now go on, before all the best spots are taken."

"I love you," Harry said, forcing back the burning feeling in his throat that signaled the coming of tears.

"I love you." James smiled. "Now hurry up!"

Harry pushed his trolley forward and Lily followed him. They worked their way through the crowd carefully, and then Harry hefted his feather-light charmed trunk and Hedwig to carry onto the train. "Goodbye, Mother," Harry said as he went.

"Goodbye, Harry," Lily replied, her voice full of false tones. "Don't forget to write!"

"Ok," he said, then clambered aboard the train while his mother took the trolley. The train was already filling up. Harry passed by several compartments filled with trunks of students who'd dropped off their luggage then gone to mingle on the platform, and Harry decided next time he'd do the same. It would certainly be easier than trying to lug his stuff when it was busy like this.

Just as Harry was starting to feel overwhelmed, he found a compartment with only one trunk in it. Deciding he wasn't going to be able to find a compartment all to himself, he carried his stuff inside and set it down. He tossed his messenger bag onto the seat, then clambered on after it and pulled his trunk up from the ground. It was difficult even with the feather-light charm on due to the awkward size, but Harry managed to wrestle his trunk onto the overhead rack. The other trunk up there had the initials L.J. on it. He left Hedwig on the floor at his feet, and collapsed onto the seat close to the window. He looked out as he pulled his messenger bag toward him. He couldn't see his dad or mother amongst the crowd anymore, probably because neither of them were especially tall people.

He opened his messenger bag and found his school robes on top. Since there was plenty of room in the compartment right now, he got up and shrugged the open-fronted robe on over his muggle t-shirt and blue jeans. With it on, Harry felt some of his excitement return. He was going to Hogwarts, a castle filled to the brim with magical enchantments and where they taught magic. He wondered how he could ever have not been excited.

Sitting back down by the window, Harry watched the people rush about and tried to acclimate himself to just how many there were. Lots of the younger kids stuck close by their parents, but Harry saw older kids standing together in groups while their parents stood in others, both groups were talking and laughing. A couple of girls standing in one group shrieked when a boy showed them a large spider he had in a small basket. As the warning whistle sounded off and everyone that wasn't already on the train began to flock towards it, Harry saw a large group of redheads burst onto the platform and rush over quickly.

Harry was chuckling at the sight they made when the compartment door opened. He turned to see a small, chubby boy holding on to a large toad tightly. The boy looked rather terrified.

"Hello," Harry greeted, trying not to sound nervous, "are you looking for a place to sit?"

"Y-yes, umm, would it be all right if I sat in here," the boy asked, his voice strained.

"Sure," Harry smiled, hoping it would seem reassuring as his own nerves faded. It was hard to be nervous when someone else was so obviously more afraid than him. "I'm Harry Potter, by the way." The boy looked both relieved and nervous about his answer for some reason.

"I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom," Neville said softly.

Harry was surprised. His dad had mentioned that the Boy-Who-Lived would be going to Hogwarts this year, but he hadn't really thought much of it. Now he was actually meeting the boy who'd defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Voldy as Sirius called him. He glanced up to Neville's forehead, but the supposed curse mark that rested there was covered by hair. Neville shifted awkwardly and Harry was suddenly aware of the fact that he was staring. Harry flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry!" he said quickly. "Come on in, Longbottom."

Neville shuffled in and Harry tried to act natural. He was trying to help Neville get his trunk onto the rack, it was difficult with how short they both were and how heavy the trunk was, clearly it didn't have a feather-weight charm on it, when the door slid open again behind them.

"Oh," a voice said. Then suddenly there were two sets of hands taking ahold of the trunk from them and hoisting it up.

"Need a bit of help there, mates," two voices said at once.

Neville nodded, but remained quiet, leaving Harry to say, "Yeah, thanks."

"No problem," said the two boys. Now that Harry could look at them he found that they were some of the redheads that had watched arrive on the platform. They were identical right down to the last freckle it seemed and grinning happily. By the door was another boy, this one with dark skin and his hair an ordered mess of dreadlocks. He was holding a small basket, and Harry recognized him as the boy he'd seen with the spider.

"I'm Fred," one twin said.

"And I'm George," said the other.

Together they asked, "Who're you?"

Neville looked baffled, the boy by the door looked bemused, and Harry's eyes widened. He wondered if all twins could do that. It was really neat. The twins shared a glance and the boy by the door smiled, and then Harry decided to be brave and answered. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Potter?" Fred asked, "Like James Potter?"

Harry nodded, surprised.

"Our dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department at the Ministry," George explained. "He's mentioned that your dad's helped him out a few times."

Before Harry could say anything, Fred rounded on Neville. "And who are you?"

"N-Neville Longbottom."

The twins adopted matching expressions of surprise. "The Neville Longbottom?"

"Can you believe it, Fred?"

"Not if it weren't in front of my eyes, George."

"Pleasure to meet you!" The twins grinned widely, then turned to try and shove their trunks in the overhead rack.

Neville still looked baffled and a bit worried, but Harry was trying not to laugh. The boy by the door sat down across from Harry and Neville, his amused grin still in place. "I'm Lee Jordan. Do you want to see my spider?"

Neville blanched, but Harry leaned forward. "Yeah!"

••••••••

The train-ride passed faster than Harry expected. After they played with Lee's spider for a while, Harry found himself getting comfortable with the group. They played Exploding Snap, and Harry and Neville bought enough candy off the trolley for everyone. The twins and Lee were great fun. The twins reminded him of Sirius, and Lee reminded him a bit of Remus. Harry learned that all of them loved Quidditch, though Lee was a terrible flier, so he was hoping to do the commentary this year. They were all in Gryffindor House and third years. The twins had a younger brother who'd be in Harry and Neville's year.

They went on a bit of a wild goose chase when Neville's toad, Trevor, escaped the compartment. They ran into Draco Malfoy, who raised his pointed nose high into the air and sneered at them before calling the twins, whose last name Harry now discovered to be Weasley, blood traitors and loudly remarking that people should remember that some wizarding families were better than others. Neville looked intimidated, Lee uncertain, and the twins furious. Malfoy then leveled his gaze on Harry.

Harry nodded and said, "Yeah, but I think the words you're looking for are more traditional, more powerful, more influential, more pure, and stuff like that. Just 'better' is too broad a category." Malfoy looked a bit offended at the soft correction, and Harry, having a bout of nerves again, quickly pulled the twins out of there with Lee's help before a fight could erupt.

Later they came across a Gryffindor Prefect, who was another redhead and Fred and George's older brother, who summoned the wayward Trevor after scolding them. Once they returned to the compartment, Lee defused the twins lingering anger from the Malfoy incident with a game and everything went back to how it was before.

Though several hours had passed since the train left at eleven o'clock, it felt like a much shorter amount of time. Soon they shot past a break in the trees that showed Hogwarts castle all lit up, and the twins, Lee, and Neville hurriedly shrugged on their robes as the train slowed and stopped in Hogsmeade Station. Lee instructed Harry and Neville to leave their luggage so it could be magically taken up to their dorms after their sorting. Harry was hesitant to leave his grimoire behind, but when Lee even left his spider Harry decided it was safe to leave his messenger bag.

It was already dark out when Harry and Neville disembarked. The platform was lit with lamps and a lantern held by a huge man in a furry coat of some kind. Harry instantly identified him as Hagrid from some of Sirius's stories. Hagrid directed all of the first years towards the lake, and Harry and Neville stayed close to each other as they followed the winding path lit with fairy lights to the lakeshore. Once at the shore, they were met with the rest of the first years and Hagrid ordered them into boats.

Neville and Harry ended up in boat with two girls. One he recognized as Susan Bones from meeting her and her aunt, who worked with his dad sometimes, at the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley when he was with his dad. She looked ready to undo her plait just so she could pull her reddish hair out in exasperation and tossed Harry a desperate look as the other girl, this one with bushy hair and bucked teeth, prattled on about things she'd read in regards to Hogwarts castle in _Hogwarts: A History_. Harry shrugged apologetically. He didn't know what to do. Maybe the girl was just talking because she was nervous. Then they were off across the lake.

Once they rounded a small point, everyone got a magnificent view of the castle. It was much bigger than Harry had imagined it, and every window was brightly lit. The castle glowed like a beacon against the darkening sky as the last vestiges of the sunset faded. Very faint multicolored waves of light seemed to float and ebb and flow along the castle's sides, almost looking like the aurora borealis Harry'd seen an image of in his art book by Rin Asita. It was beautiful, and Harry was a little disappointed when they had to duck into a cave and the castle exterior was out of view.

Harry hardly paid any attention to anything McGonagall said once he was inside the castle with the other first years. He was too busy looking at everything. He could swear he saw one of the suits of armor move. Harry jumped when the ghosts came in, but then he laughed at himself and stared at them in fascination. He'd never seen a ghost before. They were a lot more defined than Harry thought they'd be. Then it was time for the Sorting.

Despite all of the bravery Harry felt he'd displayed that day, he still got a sudden burst of anxiety as they walked into the Great Hall. Grand as the hall was with its enchanted ceiling and thousands of floating candles, he could only concentrate on how everyone was staring at them, evaluating them. Harry didn't like it.

He forced himself to stand tall, well, as tall as his short frame could, like Mercier would have told him to, though he really wanted to run away and hide. Next to him, Neville kept his shoulders slumped, and many others did the same. A few, like Malfoy, stood tall like Harry though.

The sorting was a tense affair for the first-years. Even those who were relieved to discover they didn't have to take a test or face some kind of challenge quickly regained their former unease when the Hat started singing. Harry supposed the real reason for the tension was in the way McGonagall drew out the students' names and the way all was silent until the Hat shouted out your house's name though. He wished it would go a bit faster.

Things grew interesting when Neville's name was called. The Hall was filled with whispers at his name and the Hat sat on his head for a good long while, so long that Harry heard some students at the tables muttering about a possible hatstall, whatever that was, before declaring him a Gryffindor. Gryffindor table burst into thunderous applause, but Neville would have run to his table with the Sorting Hat still on if it weren't for McGonagall's quick reflexes.

The next student Harry paid close attention to, rather than just focusing on remembering their name, was Malfoy. It was with little surprise that Harry watched the confident boy walk up to the stool and be placed in Slytherin like he'd predicted at the robe shop. After the blond took a seat at the house of snakes with a proud grin on his face, a few more students were called. Then Harry's name was announced, and he slipped through the remaining crowd of first years with his head held high as if trying to keep it above nerve inducing waters to take his seat on the stool.

McGonagall dropped the Hat onto his head. It was so big it covered his eyes, plunging him into darkness for a moment. He heard humming. It was a thoughtful sound, and faint bits of color like he'd seen around the castle became visible in time with it. _Well, well, this is interesting, you can see a bit of the magic._ The voice was soft, as if it was speaking to itself more than anyone else. Harry almost looked around, but he recognized the Hat's voice and knew it came from all sides. _Hmmm, there are many options open to you. Let's see... Not Hufflepuff, you wouldn't quite fit in there._

Harry guessed the hat must have read his thoughts because it said, _Yes, we can communicate mentally, and no, I'm afraid I don't have time to explain it. You would do well in Ravenclaw, very curious mind you have._ There was a short pause. Harry wondered what the Hat was thinking. _Slytherin would be good for you too, but that could pose a few family problems now couldn't it._

It wasn't a question, but Harry sort of mentally nodded anyway. He didn't think his parents or godfathers, official and unofficial, would be at all happy if he was in Slytherin. _I wouldn't discount it entirely though, child. Slytherin House harbors many traits that could help you become great. Still... A few of your other traits need a bit more nurturing. Better be..._ Harry tensed. "Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted, its voice so loud under it that Harry was nearly certain his ears would start ringing.

Applause started and McGonagall lifted the Hat from his head. Harry blinked in the comparatively bright light of the Hall before standing and hurrying over to the Gryffindor table to sit next to Neville. Once seated he let out a relieved breath and looked down the table at his new housemates. There were a lot of them. Harry hoped he wouldn't be expected to remember them all right away. He was sure he was going to have enough trouble trying to remember the names of all the first years he heard.

It wasn't long before Ron Weasley's name was called and Fred and George's brother was added to the Gryffindor table. The young redhead sat next to a dark skinned boy with a bright smile named Dean Thomas, looking relieved as his brothers cheered. Harry smiled at him and clapped with the others while wondering if Ron was anything like the twins.

Lastly, a very serious looking boy named Blaise Zabini was sorted. The boy's name reminded Harry of Blaze, one of the winged-horses back home, and Harry wondered if the boy and horse sharing such similar sounding names had personalities that were anything alike.

When Zabini made his way to Slytherin table, Dumbledore rose, and Harry decided that the man looked exactly like he did in his chocolate frog card portraits. He thought Dumbledore's beard and glasses made him look very wise, but the rather ostentatious clothes, done in rich fabrics with various patterns and multiple shades of purple, made him stand out too much in this setting. He knew Dumbledore was generally regarded as being a bit eccentric, the clothes made it obvious, but the short list of odd words he said that made the feast pop up on the tables made Harry wonder just how eccentric he was. Harry didn't linger on thoughts of Dumbledore long though, the feast smelled too delicious to ignore, thousands of mouthwatering scents wafting into the air the instant the food appeared.

While everyone loaded their plates and started eating, conversation from the upper years floated down to the younger years. Most of it was about Neville being the Boy-Who-Lived and his defeat of You-Know-Who, but the topics spread out from there. The bushy-haired brunette with buckteeth from Harry and Neville's boat, who Harry now knew to be named Hermione Granger, and others, quickly picked up on their conversations and began their own.

Hermione introduced herself as a muggleborn right away and suddenly all her talk about books made sense, though Harry thought it seemed rude to just announce your blood status like you expected everyone else to tell you theirs. She said that she had read all about magic, and Neville as such, as soon as she learned she was a witch. Her tone was rather brusque, but Harry listened anyway. He had to admit that he was rather curious about what it would be like to grow up thinking you were just an average person and then discover that you were something you'd never imagined could even exist. His mother might have been a muggleborn, but he'd never felt the need or comfortable enough to ask her what it was like for her to learn about being a witch after thinking she was just a muggle.

The others were much less interested in Hermione's talking. They wanted to see Neville's legendary curse scar. The boy acted painfully shy under the group's attention. He caved in easily and lifted his bangs to show his year-mates the mark on his forehead. It was shaped like a stylized lightning-bolt and had a reddish tint to it, like it had never completely healed. There was a gasp from some of the viewers, and Neville let his hair drop back into place over it.

While the others gaped, Harry hummed softly to himself for a second. The mark looked painful, though it must not have been. He wondered what it would be like to see the scar every morning and be reminded that Voldy had attacked him and killed his parents. Harry had trouble dealing with knowing that his dad was an Auror who could be potentially killed at work at any time. He figured it must be worse to deal with knowing you'd already lost your parents, that it wasn't a risk, but already said and done.

To change the topic, Harry looked over to Ron and said, "I met your brothers on the train. They were a lot of fun."

"Yeah, they're cool," Ron agreed, and lifted a fat brown rat out of his pocket. He placed the rat on his lap and started feeding it with one hand while feeding himself with the other. "But you have to watch out," he continued, "They're some of the biggest pranksters ever! It's all wicked neat stuff until it's used on you!"

From there the conversations turned away from Neville, much to the boy's relief. Harry caught his eye and smiled. Neville smiled back, and the rest of the meal was surprisingly peaceful, if a bit awkward since the first years often ran out of topics then would suddenly jump back into one before a girl named Fay Dunbar started up a conversation on Quidditch that drew in most of the group.

Despite all the noise around him, Harry started to get tired. He was glad when Dumbledore finally stood to make the final announcements before dismissing everyone. The tiredness was snapped right out of him when he heard the part about a third floor corridor that could lead to someone's death. He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was joking about that part or not. The headmaster seemed serious when he said it, yet Harry couldn't understand why there would be some part of Hogwarts that could apparently kill students. Then again, he thought, perhaps Dumbledore was just being dramatic to make sure everyone understood that it really was a dangerous place. He wondered what made the corridor so dangerous.

After the announcement everyone was dismissed. Harry and the rest of the first year Gryffindors followed Prefect Percy Weasley while the rest of the Gryffindors took off ahead of them in their own big bunch with another Gryffindor prefect. Harry followed Percy attentively, taking note of landmarks the Prefect said would help him find his way to Gryffindor Tower alone after this. Percy took them to a large portrait depicting a big-boned woman in an old fashioned dress and introduced them to the Fat Lady. They entered Gryffindor Tower after all saying the password to the Fat Lady together, and were greeted with a large, circular common room done up in reds, golds, and browns, a few older students who were lingering by the fire and couches, as well as the female Gryffindor prefect, who led the girls to their dormitory while Percy showed the boys to their dorm.

By this point, Harry and the other boys were too tired to want to explore the tower. Harry was just glad his trunk and messenger bag were there, placed at the foot of his four-poster bed. Ron dropped onto his bed and went straight to sleep, still in his day clothes. Harry felt a little awkward changing in front of the other boys, but since that was how he knew dorm life worked, he turned his back to the others and hurriedly changed into his pajamas. He then tried the door at the other side of the room and discovered a bathroom. He quickly made use of it, and then climbed into his assigned bed. He drew the hanging shut like some of the other boys were doing, lay down, and closed his eyes.

Harry was still awake when he heard the last of the boys get into bed. He shifted, sighed, and when that didn't work, shifted again. It was so strange to be sleeping in a bed away from home. It just wasn't quite as comfortable, and there were all the new sounds, especially the tolling of bell that came from somewhere outside, and even the different smell of the bedding. Harry started to wonder if he'd ever be able to fall asleep.

 **A/N:** So what did you think? It feels very much like a transitional chapter to me because it's a bit shorter than previous chapters and there's not much dialogue. Ah well, we had to get to Hogwarts somehow so we can have adventures, right? As always, constructive criticism is welcome, along with other random comments and such. Let me know if anything needs fixing, I went over it like five times for errors in my word document, but you never know if it'll all transfer over nicely lol.

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	5. Y1: Dungeon Problems and Rock Cakes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** My finals for this semester are finally done! So to celebrate, here's chapter 5! Thanks to Ern Estine 13624, Guest Yuki, and another Guest for the reviews on chapter 4! I'm glad to hear people are enjoying the story so far :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 5:** Dungeon Problems and Rock Cakes

Harry woke up feeling muzzy headed. He'd woken up several times after he'd finally fallen asleep last night, just about every time the bells tolled when the hour was stuck, if he remembered correctly. That didn't exactly make for a good night's sleep. The other boys also looked a little ragged, except for Ron. Harry guessed they must have had trouble sleeping away from home too.

The five Gryffindor boys stayed in a tight group. They got ready together, expressing their surprise at discovering Gryffindor ties laid out for them with instructions on how to tie them from Prefect Weasley, as well as the Gryffindor crest now sewn onto their plain black robes. They brushed their teeth in the attached bathroom, and all went down to the common room together, where they found and followed a few of the older years down to breakfast. Harry tried to keep track of their path as they went for future reference. The walk seemed longer than it had the night before. Once they arrived at the Great Hall, Harry was surprised again by all of the food the house elves had prepared. There was just about any breakfast food a person could ask for. Harry hardly knew what to chose once he sat down.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall came over to their group with their schedules. Harry took his anxiously and looked it over. The classes were set up in blocks, with some classes like potions having extra long sessions for practical lessons and Astronomy having a slot at midnight on Wednesday night / Thursday morning. Thankfully they also didn't have any classes until after lunch on Thursdays, so they could sleep in after staying up so long the night before.

After reviewing his schedule and finishing his breakfast, Harry realized he had no idea what time it was or how close it was to time for the first class to start. He still had to go and get his books yet too. Harry stayed nervously seated for a few minutes, trying to decide if he should wait for someone else to say something, or if he should just get up and ask if anyone wanted to go back to the dorm with him. The other boys were still eating, as were the first year girls who were a short ways down the table, well, except for Hermione Granger. She seemed to have the schedule stuck in front of her face in excitement, which blocked any food from entering her mouth.

Finally, Harry stood, albeit nervously. "I'm going to go back to the dorm and get my books for class, do any of you want to come along?"

Ron waved a hand. "We'll catch up when we're finished, right Neville?"

"Y-yeah, we'll catch up." Neville looked a bit flustered, but Harry guessed anyone would look flustered if half the Hall were trying to get a look at him.

"All right then," Harry said, feeling awkward standing there.

"You're going back to Gryffindor Tower?" a confident, female voice asked.

Harry turned. It was Hermione again. He nodded. "Yes."

"I'll come with you. I need to get my books too." She stood up and moved over to him. "I'm ever so excited for class to start, you know."

Harry sighed internally and wondered if she always rambled on about things or if he was being too harsh since he'd only met her yesterday. They walked out of the Hall.

"I just can't wait to see how magic is taught. I've read all of the course books already, and I just hope it's enough."

"I think you'll be all right," Harry said, and his words seemed to startle Hermione, almost as if she hadn't expected him to speak. "I've read most of the course books too. Which was your favorite?" Harry stopped at a place where he had to choose between two different sets of stairs and tried to remember which one was the correct one.

Hermione blinked. "I like them all, but the one that's most interesting to me so far is Transfiguration. I'm fascinated by how magic can turn one object into another despite how dissimilar they might be. Um..." Hermione looked between the stairs. "Do you remember which one we're supposed to take?"

"Uh," Harry rubbed at the back of his head, mussing his hair that was already so disarrayed that it didn't make a difference, "I thought I did, but I'm not sure..."

Hermione seemed to puff herself up. "Well, then let's try this one." She moved to step out onto the left staircase.

"Wait!" Harry said. "Let's ask first."

Ask who?" Hermione asked, turning to him with her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Them, of course." Harry turned and gestured toward the many portraits lining the castle walls. Hermione's mouth became a big O of realization. Harry walked up to the closest painting. It was of a wizard and witch who were fancily dressed and dancing without music, or at least without any music that Harry could hear. "Excuse me, but could you tell us which staircase is the one that leads to Gryffindor Tower?"

The wizard and witch spun around their small dance floor. "Of course, dear child!" the wizard said, and brought the witch into a dip.

Held up only by the strength of the portrait wizard's arms, the witch pointed toward the stairs on the right. "That's the one you want children." The wizard lifted her up again and they went into another spin. "Don't be afraid to ask one of us whenever you get lost," she added as they moved into a different set of steps.

"Thank you for your help," Harry said with a smile. He turned to the stairs and he and Hermione went on their way.

"I've read about the portraits here in _Hogwarts: A History_ ," Hermione said once they were out of the portrait's hearing range. "I didn't realize you could talk to all of them though, I thought it was just the ones in the Headmaster's office of the past Headmasters and mistresses."

"No, you can talk to all portraits," Harry explained, "but that doesn't mean they'll talk back to you, it all depends on their personality, really, and you can't talk to the moving pictures in books or the newspaper."

"Oh," Hermione looked thoughtful. "So you must be a pureblood, or are you a half-blood then?"

"Well..." Harry felt uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why though. Everyone else in their year just announced their blood status no problem at the feast last night, but Harry had always felt like it was rude to just ask that of someone and then base all of your assumptions on it. He knew from Mercier that England was rather unique in how focused it was on blood status. Still, it made him feel oddly like he was of the middle class in the world when he said, "I'm a half-blood. My mother's a muggleborn, but my dad's a pureblood."

"So what's it like growing up knowing about magic?" Hermione asked, appearing thoughtful. "My parents and I were so astonished to learn that I was a witch, and it all seems so amazing to me, but Hogwarts must seem normal to you."

Harry quickly shook his head. "Hogwarts is anything but normal, even by magical standards. I think it's the only building in the UK with moving staircases, and I've never heard of another place with a ceiling bewitched like the Great Hall's. Besides," he continued, "we might grow up with magic around us, but we don't get to practice it until we're at least ten. There's even a law about it."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"Something about it damaging our magical core if you start learning magic too young," Harry said with a shrug. "I don't know all the details."

They reached the Tower then, and after saying the password, they split up to go to their separate dormitories. Harry quickly went to his trunk and messenger bag and organized what books he'd need for that day along with double-checking his ink, quills, and the parchment he had for taking notes on.

He also checked his grimoire. He'd felt strange at the feast last night and again this morning when he didn't have it with him. It was there in his bag though, looking just like it usually did. He'd have to write in it again soon and tell it about what house he'd gotten put into and how the rest of this school day went. Actually, he should probably write his dad and let him know too.

Harry then reached into another pocket of his bag and felt for his dagger. It was there as well. He wondered when he'd find the time and a place to practice with it. Mercier always said that he should keep practicing on a steady schedule in order to keep up his skills. He didn't think he should tell the rest of his roommates about it though. Mercier had also said that skills like fighting should always be kept a secret so you could surprise any enemies.

With everything checked and double-checked, Harry picked up his messenger bag and went back to the Common Room to meet Hermione and hopefully find their way to their classes without getting lost.

••••••••

If there was one thing Harry learned about his first week at Hogwarts, it was that it was very easy to get lost in the enormous castle. Neville and Ron even had the misfortune of getting so lost that they accidently tried to get into the forbidden corridor, thinking it was the right way to go, when Filch and his beloved cat, Mrs. Norris, found them. The castle caretaker was now watching the two closely, apparently thinking that they were troublemakers. Harry hadn't had quite that bad of luck, although there had been a few times where he'd gone looking for a toilet and had to run about like mad trying to find one and then try to find his way back.

He'd also learned that he needed to get a watch, especially after he, Neville, and Ron were scolded by McGonagall for being late to their first Transfiguration class. He felt bad about losing Gryffindor points for that. He couldn't even argue that he'd gotten lost. Thankfully, he and Hermione earned the points back by being the only ones to manage turning their matchstick into a needle, Harry shortly after Hermione.

Today, however, seemed to be setting up to be a bad day even though it was Friday, the last day of classes for the week. Harry still had trouble sleeping at night, and so it was a tired, muddled Harry who'd forgotten his cauldron back in the dormitory that Friday morning. When he realized he didn't have it, he'd hurried back to the Tower to grab it alone. It wasn't until he had his cauldron and was standing at the bottom of the staircase to the dungeons that he realized his mistake. Other than 'the dungeons', Harry had no idea where the Potions classroom was, and there wasn't a person or portrait in sight to ask. It wasn't long before Harry was well and truly lost.

He stopped next to an old, tattered, green tapestry and looked up and down where the corridor he was standing in split. He had no idea where to go. The dungeons seemed like a labyrinth. His nerves about not knowing how to get to Potions had grown to anxiety and were now close to panic. Other than a few markers here and there, all of the grey, stone halls he'd passed though looked exactly the same. He tried listening as hard as he could, hoping to hear someone at a distance that would tell him what way to go.

Instead of hearing anything down any of the corridors, Harry heard something coming from behind him. It sounded like footsteps. Lots of footsteps. Harry turned around to look at the tapestry. That didn't make sense. Footsteps couldn't come from tapestries. The sounds got louder, and Harry took a few steps back in fright. Suddenly, the tapestry was pushed up and there were Fred and George Weasley, holding a large, creased sheet of parchment between them and wearing bright grins.

"Hello, Harry," they said, "Are you lost?"

If he hadn't been holding his cauldron, Harry would have thrown himself at them. As it were, he could only stand there, holding the heavy cauldron in front of him by its handle with both hands, and feel his eyes get hot and watery and his throat tight as a sensation of vast relief swamped him. Somehow he managed to choke out, "Y-yes."

The pair almost seemed to apparate to his sides, they flanked him so quickly. The twin Harry identified as Fred took his cauldron from him while George wrapped an arm around his shoulders and said, "It's all right, Harry."

Harry rubbed at his eyes to try and halt the oncoming tears and took a few deep breaths. "H-how'd you guys find me?"

"Now, now, Harry," said Fred, "That would be telling, and master pranksters have to have a few secrets, you know."

"Don't worry, Harry," George said, redirecting his attention, "We know the passages in this castle better than anyone else but Filch." He winked. "We'll get you to Potions on time."

"Yeah, let's go!" Fred grabbed ahold of Harry's left hand, and George took his right, and then they were off, pulling Harry down the corridors and through what appeared to be secret passages, talking all the way.

"Did you know-"

"-there are one hundred-"

"-and forty-two-"

"-staircases in Hogwarts?"

"No," Harry responded, feeling himself calm down as they ran.

"There are even-"

"-different kinds of-"

"-doors here."

"Yeah?" Harry said, astonished.

"Ones you have to tickle."

"Ones you have to ask politely."

"Even doors that aren't actually doors-"

"-but just walls pretending-"

Together the twins said, "-and we know them all!"

They veered into a passageway hidden in a shadowed alcove and at the end of it was another tapestry, this one a dark purple, hung over the exit. The twins stopped before it.

"Here we are!" Fred peeked out the exit before turning back to them with a grin. "They're still waiting out there. We must be just in time!"

"You feeling better, Harry?" George asked.

Harry nodded and readjusted his glasses. He was feeling better, much better. "Yeah, thank you for helping me."

"No problem!" the twins said. Fred handed Harry back the cauldron, and without further ado, pushed him through the tapestry and into the corridor.

His sudden arrival caused a few of the Gryffindor girls to shriek in surprise, while the rest, including the Slytherin first years present, jumped a bit.

"Whoa, Harry! Where'd you come from?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea," Harry said, shaking his head, "I got completely lost." He still felt a little lost, actually. He could hardly believe he'd gone from panicking at his situation to being saved and hauled off to being thrust into the corridor he'd been trying to find with little time to understand everything that was happening.

Hermione shook her head too. "You ought to be more careful! You might've been late!"

"Sorry," Harry said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "It's like a maze down here."

"That's because the dungeons are Slytherin territory, Potter," Malfoy said from his place leaning against the opposite wall with the other Slytherins. He wore an intense sneer and had his chin uplifted in a gesture of superiority. "You pathetic Gryffindors aren't meant to survive down here."

Harry frowned, unsure of how to respond.

Ron scowled, "Yeah? Well who'd want to stay down here anyway? Only a slimy snake would want to stay where it's so cold and dark."

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the Potions classroom door opening and consequent arrival of Professor Snape. The potions master looked over them with dark, condescending eyes. "I trust," he said slowly, "that everyone is behaving."

Harry shifted his grip on his cauldron, and Snape's gaze fell on him. He went still. There was something extremely unnerving about the way the potions master looked at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Snape said, "Get in the classroom."

Harry and the others quickly moved to obey.

••••••••

The Potions classroom was just as Harry had imagined. The stone room was large, with vaulted ceilings and small, darkened windows set high on the wall behind the blackboard. There were shelves covering the walls, many of which contained clear jars that held gruesome and mysterious objects suspended in some kind of liquid. There was a large stone sink in one corner and an empty space next to it with a drain in the floor. At the front of the classroom, a heavy worktable stood with a basic cauldron set up and a few books. Behind the worktable was a large blackboard, to the right of which was another door. In the right corner of the room were several stacks of cauldrons that looked very dirty. In the center of the room were multiple rows of long, heavy, wooden tables discolored by scorch marks and what must have been hundreds of past accidents along with a pair of wooden stools for each table.

The room quickly found itself divided into two sections with the Slytherins on the right and the Gryffindors on the left. Harry, being the last of the Gryffindors to enter the room, found himself seated at a front table with Hermione Granger. Harry heaved a mental sigh. Over the week, Hermione had presented herself as a know-it-all and rather bossy. Perhaps because of this, the other Gryffindor girls had paired off and effectively made Hermione the odd one out whenever she tried to talk to them, which seemed to have caused the girl to focus on the boys instead. Because of this, whenever they had to get into pairs for something, which had been an awful lot this week, Harry thought, Seamus and Dean paired up while Ron quickly grabbed Neville's attention, thus leaving Harry to Hermione's incessant talking and bossy tone.

Harry tried to look on the bright side. At least Hermione paid attention in class and was always prepared and organized. Potion making was a dangerous and exact art where all those things were required. Well, according to Mercier it was an art. Sirius had always told him it only counted as an art when the potions exploded and splattered everywhere like a Pollock painting. All in all, it might be for the best that he works at the same table as Hermione. Harry figured the real problem would actually come from the way his professor was glaring at him for no apparent reason.

Getting his utensils out to take notes, Harry ignored most of the role call until Neville's name came up and Snape added something to the simple process of taking attendance.

"Mr. Longbottom, our new celebrity," Snape drawled in a way that sent chills down Harry's spine. "I suspect you will learn here, boy, that fame isn't everything."

Harry didn't know what Snape had against Neville, or against most of the Gryffindors from the way he looked at them really, but he got a very bad feeling when Snape reached his name.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said tonelessly. In the quiet of the room, the words fell strangely flat. It was as if they were potions ingredients that had been dropped to the floor and needed throwing out but were of such little value that their loss was inconsequential.

"Present, sir," Harry answered. He hesitantly lifted his emerald-green gaze to lock with Snape's dark, nearly black, one. Harry couldn't read anything behind those eyes at first. It was as if they had been carefully wiped of all emotion but for a split second before Snape looked away and continued to take role. In that instant, Harry thought he saw disgust. It made him shiver and drop his eyes down to the table in unease. Harry had been looking forward to this class, but now... Now he thought it would be nice if class were let out early.

After attendance was taken and Snape began a lecture about the class, Harry nearly forgot about the strange way his professor looked at him and the discomfort he'd felt. Snape's voice was too enthralling while he talked about what potions could accomplish to think of anything else. That soon faded though, when Snape issued the orders for them to set up their workstations and brew the first potion in their textbook.

Harry had brewed potions that were safe for children to brew under supervision before with Mercier. They weren't dangerous potions. They either worked if it was done right, or did nothing and harmed no one if they were done wrong. Harry had sort of expected their first potion to be one like that since the muggleborns would never have brewed a potion before. He was wrong though, and Snape was very serious about them doing everything right so that people wouldn't get hurt even though the potion could potentially be dangerous to the slightest degree.

Everyone seemed to be getting scolded for a range of things, from not laying out their tools in the correct order to Neville somehow managing to melt his cauldron toward the end of class, which resulted in Gryffindor House losing a few points. Harry didn't understand why he was getting scolded so much though. Nothing seemed to go unnoticed by Snape, and he barked at Harry for things he hadn't even finished doing yet. Harry quickly grew flustered and ended up losing track of time with the burner, causing the potion to be overheated by a minute and making its color be off by a few shades. Snape then took a point from Gryffindor for Harry's 'inability to follow instructions'.

Harry was so baffled by his professor's behavior that he felt like he was lost in the dungeons again. This was only made worse when Snape stopped at Malfoy's table across from Harry and Hermione's and didn't offer a single word of criticism, but praised the blond instead. Malfoy was the only one in the entire classroom that Snape did this to, and it didn't make any sense to Harry at all.

When class was finally over, Harry wasted no time getting out of the room, nor did many of the other Gryffindors.

••••••••

That afternoon found Harry with his trousers rolled up at the bottoms and his feet in the Black Lake. He, Ron, and Neville were skipping rocks and complaining about Snape.

"That Snape's a right git!" Ron vented, throwing a rock and making it skip an amazing five times. "Yes!" he cheered.

"He's terrifying," Neville said. He threw a rock and it landed in the lake with a single, thunking splash. He frowned.

"I think he hates me," Harry sighed, searching amongst the cool, shallow water of the shoreline for a suitable skipping stone. He picked up a decent one and threw it. It skipped twice before dropping into the lake with a plop.

Ron turned to Neville. "How did you manage to melt your cauldron anyway?"

"I don't know. I had the heat turned up like we were supposed to and was adding the next ingredient like we were supposed to and suddenly the whole thing went kind of wax-like," Neville explained. With a rather frightened expression he said, "Now I'll have to write Gran to send me a new one."

Harry was about to ask Neville why his grandmother seemed to frighten him when a booming voice came from the top of the lake bank. "What're you doin' down there? Get outta there you three!"

Harry, Ron, and Neville looked up to see a rather frantic Hagrid beckoning them out. As they scurried to obey, Hagrid continued, "Don' cha read the sign? There's grindylow infestin' this part 'o the lake."

As they reached the top of the bank, where their shoes and socks and Hagrid were awaiting them, they did indeed see a small sign with a little warning on it that said, 'Do Not Enter' and underneath that, 'Grindylow Infestation'.

"Oughta be more careful," Hagrid said, more calm now that they were out of the water. "Grindylows be nasty buggers, and the lake's got a good deal too many to deal with this year. All it would take is for one ta sneak up on ya and drag ya under."

"Sorry, Hagrid," Harry said, rubbing the back of his head and trying not to think about the ugly, horned creatures with long, grasping fingers, "We didn't see the sign."

Hagrid blinked down at him. "Yer James and Lily Potter's boy, aren't ya?"

Surprised, Harry nodded.

"Ah, I shoulda known we'd be seeing ya getting yerself inta trouble sooner rather than later," Hagrid shook his head, which made his thick mane of curly hair look even more wild. "Yer father was a right trouble maker, he was. He 'nd his friends pulled quite the number of pranks if I do recall." A fond expression crossed Hagrid's face. "I think my favorite was the one where they turned Michael Davis, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, red the day of the Slytherin/Gryffindor match fer the Quidditch Cup. Gryffindor walloped 'um good that year." Hagrid chuckled at the memory, then turned his attention to the other two. "And who do we 'ave here? A Weasley and Neville Longbottom? Knew yer parents too when they were in school, good folks the lot."

"You knew my parents?" Neville asked shyly.

"Sure did," Hagrid said, then paused, "but what are we doing out here? You lot have the afternoon off, right? Let's go to my place fer tea, eh?"

••••••••

Tea at Hagrid's was not what Harry had expected. First they'd been lead to the gamekeeper's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a two roomed stone building with the main room serving multiple purposes as bedroom, living room, dining room, and kitchen, while the second, smaller room was a sort of storage space. Harry hadn't realized that Hagrid didn't live in the castle proper until now.

Then there was the dog. Neville had leapt back in shock when the huge boarhound bounded out of the building. Ron didn't react fast enough and got a face-full of dog slobber. Harry had laughed at him until the dog gave him the same treatment. Only Neville remained free of the slimy substance, and that was likely because Hagrid had caught the dog by the collar before he could.

"Tha's enough, Fang!" Hagrid scolded the dog. Fang snorted and settled down, and then Hagrid released him. Fang sat peacefully by his side. "There, don't mind 'im none, he's a big softie at heart."

Neville didn't seem to believe him, as even though he was nodding with Hagrid's words, he kept throwing fearful glances at the dog and made all his movements slow and deliberate.

"Now, let's have some tea, eh?" Hagrid said, "You lot are lucky, I just made a new batch of Rock Cakes today!"

Ron mouthed 'Rock Cakes?' at Neville, who shrugged, and Harry frowned slightly. He remembered something about Rock Cakes from Sirius's stories, but he couldn't remember if they were good or not.

Trying to be polite and fill the silence Ron and Neville were leaving open, Harry asked, "What do you do at Hogwarts, Hagrid?"

Hagrid turned away from the cupboard he was getting ceramic mugs out of wearing a proud smile. "I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. I take care a the grounds, you know, looking after the garden an' patrolling the edge a the Forbidden Forest." The teapot started whistling, and Hagrid bustled about, still giving his explanation. "I 'ave control over most all the doors too, 'cept the ones that lost their keys or don't need 'em a course. Ain't nowhere safer than Hogwarts with me holdin' onto the keys and Dumbledore as headmaster. No one would be able to break into here like they did Gringotts."

As Hagrid set the mugs of tea in front of them, Ron gaped at him before sputtering, "Someone broke into Gringotts? How?"

"Can't say I rightly know," Hagrid said, setting a plate of what must have been Rock Cakes on the table. Harry politely reached out to take one, and then carefully tried to bite into it. Harry instantly understood why they were called 'Rock' Cakes and remembered his godfather saying something about using them as skipping rocks on the Black Lake. He tried to discreetly feed it to Fang. The boarhound turned his head away from the offering, and Harry was stuck with it. "I believe the article's in the paper there."

Neville picked up a newspaper flipped upside down on the table. It was today's edition with a blaring headline proclaiming that Gringotts had indeed been broken into.

Harry asked, "What's it say, Neville?"

Neville cleared his throat nervously and fidgeted as he scanned the article before picking the most important section. "Gringott's vault seven-hundred and thirteen was broken into, but fortunately for the vault-holder, it had been emptied earlier that day. There are, as of yet, no suspects as to who broke into the renowned bank, and the Goblins say the only reason the would-be-thief was able to get into the vault is because it was empty, which caused wards to go down."

"Bah," Hagrid said. "I don't trust those goblins as far as I could throw 'em. It's a good thing Dumbledore had it removed a while back. Hogwarts is much safer."

Harry frowned as he worked out what Hagrid was saying. "It was Dumbledore's vault?" Harry focused on Hagrid with eyes alight with curiosity. "What was in there, Hagrid?"

Hagrid sputtered a bit and mumbled, "I shouldn't 'a told you that."

"Wow, I bet it's a powerful magic artifact! Maybe a legendary sword or something from Merlin himself!" Ron speculated.

"Now, enough of that," Hagrid said to Ron, and then turned to the rest of the group, "It's school business and none of your concern. Let's talk 'bout somethin' else. How were yer classes? Get lost in the castle yet?"

Neville started talking about how he'd melted his cauldron in Potions, Ron throwing in comments about Snape being a git along the way, but Harry was quiet. It sounded like whatever had been in the vault was in Hogwarts now. He wondered if it had something to do with the third corridor being forbidden. He didn't get to think about it for long though, as Ron nudged Harry to contribute to the 'Snape Sucks' conversation.

They spent the next hour talking about classes and trying to make it seem like they were eating the Rock Cakes when they were actually slipping them into their pockets.

 **A/N:** And that's chapter 5! The little first years are so cute. Harry's learned Hogwarts has secret passages and is probably wondering why his dad and Sirius never mentioned them in their stories, and a plot piece for Neville's future adventures has fallen into place. If you're still wondering when the cult mentioned in the summary is going to show up, those pieces will be falling into place in the next few chapters, don't worry. As always, constructive criticism and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	6. Y1: Overlooking the Underlook

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Well, I had wished to get this out in December, but as it usually goes with the holiday season I got distracted with family events and didn't get this finalized for posting until now. Anyway, thank you reviewers for chapter 5! Ern Estine 13624, choclatbandit, underwatersecrets, and Guest. One of you seems to be having the same idea for something I was considering :). Now, let's explore Hogwarts!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 6:** Overlooking the Underlook

Harry received his first letters at Hogwarts on his first Saturday there. He'd been worried when he didn't get a response from his dad, godfather, or Remus after he'd written them earlier in the week, but now his fears were eased. According to each of their letters they knew how busy a first year's first week of classes was so they'd waited to write him.

Each of them congratulated him on being sorted into Gryffindor and asked him how he liked his classes. Sirius also asked him if there were any cute girls in his year. Harry just shook his head when he read that. Sometimes it seemed all Sirius thought about was girls. Sirius complained to his dad all the time about this girlfriend or that girlfriend, how he'd dumped one, how horrible a date went, or how he'd thought maybe the next one would be 'the one' only for him to be totally wrong but not really feeling very bad about it. Harry had no idea why he had so many girlfriends, or why he'd want so many girlfriends in the first place. He had to have at least five of them a month from how many Sirius talked about all the time.

Harry also got a reply from Professor Mercier, who he'd written after his first A History of Magic class to inform his ex-tutor that he'd been right about Binns being a horrible teacher. Everyone but Hermione had fallen asleep during that class, and Harry had no idea how she'd managed to stay awake. Harry felt bad about it, really. He was never one to slack off in a class, doodle occasionally, yes, but he'd never fallen asleep before, and that was the epitome of slacking off. He hoped his teacher had some ideas of what he should do.

As it turned out Mercier's idea was to bring sugary snacks to class along with the history books he recommended so that Harry would hopefully still be able to stay awake and would be able to at least take note of the general facts of what Binns was saying and could use the other books to actually learn about it. The rest of Mercier's letter was more casual, asking how Harry was dealing with being away from home, if he was writing in his grimoire, if he'd found anywhere to practice with his dagger, and it ended with Mercier telling him that the jobberknolls, Tally, and even grumpy Sedgwick, missed him.

Harry had been writing in his grimoire. Usually every night before he went to sleep he wrote an entry while sitting on his bed with the hangings closed. He tried to switch which language he wrote in every time, and he usually wrote about what he learned in class that day and anything interesting that had happened. He also wrote about the people around him, and found it helped him keep track of them all.

As far as practice with his dagger went, Harry decided that either today or tomorrow he'd have to explore the castle a bit to see if he could find a room to practice in that, hopefully, wasn't too far from the Tower.

The question about homesickness was another matter entirely, and one that he frequently addressed in his grimoire. He was still adjusting to life at Hogwarts. Every day something came up that made him wish he were back at Potter Manor instead, whether it be a poor night's sleep due to someone's snoring in the dorm or how there were always people everywhere and how he had to deal with them all the time without reprieve. However, there were certain things about Hogwarts that he liked better than the manor, like the food, though he wouldn't dare tell Romy, the amazingness of all the magic in the castle, and learning magic. There was also the fact that he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing or acting in order to keep his mother's visits to her friends secret.

"You'll come with me, won't you Harry?"

Harry looked up, startled. He'd been so consumed in his thoughts that he'd forgotten where he was for a moment. In the Great Hall students were chatting with each other over breakfast, except for Hermione, who was looking intently at him while their other year-mates ate their food and watched he and Hermione. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Uh, sorry, could you repeat that?" Harry asked.

Hermione lifted her eyes toward the ceiling in what Harry guessed must be her way of expressing exasperation. "You'll come with me to explore the castle," she said, holding up her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to emphasize her point, "won't you?"

His year-mates were watching him out of the corners of their eyes. Harry wasn't sure why though. Sure, Hermione was probably going to recite things about the castle as they went, but what he'd learned so far about having house-mates was that you couldn't have your own way all the time and had to put up with things you may have disliked about another person if you didn't want someone to be upset with you and cause yourself problems. Besides, Hermione wasn't so bad if you knew how to talk to her. She might have ben a bit overbearing, but that didn't explain why his house-mates seemed to avoid being partnered with her or spending time with her. Their behavior was kind of mean actually.

Harry nodded. "When are we going?"

Hermione smiled brightly. It put her prominent buckteeth on display, and Harry suddenly realized he hadn't seen her smile fully before now. "Right after breakfast?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry smiled back.

"That's great! I'm so excited to see more of the castle! There are so many rooms and corridors with tapestries and statues. It'll probably take us all day and we won't even see it all!"

Several soft groans came from the people seated around him, and Harry heard Ron mutter something to Seamus that sounded like 'barmy to go with her', but he ignored them and just let Hermione's words flow around him. It was no use trying to interrupt her when she got excited he'd discovered.

••••••••

Hogwarts Castle was enormous. That much was obvious, but even though Harry had already gotten lost in the dungeon and been pulled through a secret passage, he was still unprepared for just how gigantic it really was. At this point, just the thought of how large it was made his feet throb and his calves ache.

Hermione started their trip by declaring that they would start on the ground floor and work their way up through the castle using her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ as a guide for important rooms to see. Then, as time allowed, they would explore the dungeons and the grounds. However, they quickly discovered that while _Hogwarts: A History_ told you about various rooms in the castle, it did not tell you where they were located.

Harry wasn't too bothered by the lack of guide for their exploration, but Hermione had become hesitant after discovering her book had failed her. Harry encouraged her to come along anyway, and she did, but she still seemed most comfortable when she came across a room she had read about, and would burst into an explanation of the room with apparent relief when they entered it.

Of course, the relief was understandable with how many times they had become completely lost.

"Hermione, do you have any idea where we are?"

Harry and Hermione were standing on a balcony that overlooked Black Lake from some part of the castle. Honestly, Harry wasn't sure how they'd even gotten there.

"No..." Hermione said reluctantly.

"Mmm." Harry looked around. The balcony was surprisingly large, triangular shaped, and tucked into a corner of the castle, so it would be shaded unless the sun was directly overhead, and it was sheltered from the breeze. There was a delicate-looking table and two chairs made out of sturdy stone as well as a small statue of a mermaid made out of bluish-green stone. The door they'd entered the balcony from looked like a rectangular mosaic depicting the giant squid. Another such mosaic was on the other wall. "Well, I guess we should try going through the other mosaic..."

Hermione hung back while Harry moved forward to inspect the mosaic. "This is the last time I let you convince me to stray from the main corridors," she said.

Inspecting the mosaic closely, he tried touching several of the glass and stone pieces of the mosaic with his fingers and his wand in hope that he'd activate something. "Aww, but then we wouldn't have found that hall with all the hieroglyphics in it, or that secret study room, or that huge mural." Harry turned his head to smile at her. "Not to mention the slide that drops you right into that alcove by the library."

She grinned back at him. "I suppose not."

"We really ought to think about naming some of the places we've found though, or we'll never keep it all straight." Harry tapped his wand against the mosaic squid's third tentacle, and the mosaic shuddered, then slid back slightly before dropping into an opening in the floor. He beamed at his work in satisfaction for a second before looking back to Hermione. "We could call this Squid's Balcony."

Hermione shook her head, causing her frizzy curls to whip around wildly. "No, that's too obvious if we want to keep some places secret. How about..." She looked to the statue standing against the corner of the castle. "Mermaid's Overlook."

Harry blinked at the fancy name then nodded, though he thought that name was fairly obvious as well. "Sounds good." He grinned mischievously and went through the new doorway. "Now let's see where this goes."

It sounded like Hermione might have muttered something like, 'Boys...' behind him, but Harry ignored the comment in favor of finding out where the new passage he'd walked into went. A few seconds later he could hear Hermione's footsteps behind him and the mosaic sliding back into place with the sound of grinding stone echoing after them.

The passage was short and rather dusty with a few cobwebs hanging in the corners. It wasn't too dark though. Small stones embedded in the ceiling, gave off a faint glow that illuminated the way. At the end of it was a narrow staircase that spiraled downwards, the glowing ceiling stones appeared to follow it, but it was still rather dark. Harry glanced at Hermione. She was chewing on the bottom of her lip, which was something Harry had learned to be a nervous gesture of hers that usually meant her next sentence was going to be about backtracking. Well, Harry certainly didn't want to turn around.

He pulled out his wand and muttered, " _Lumos_." Bright light emitted from the end of his wand, and a moment later Hermione had done the same with hers. They trekked down the stairs slowly. The way was filled with old cobwebs heavy with years worth of dust that clung to their clothes and hair as they went. Harry started picking up speed. There was so much dust that his eyes began watering and his nose was rebelling by causing him to sneeze repeatedly but the steps kept going and going. He almost fell into the room at the bottom of the stairs.

Behind him, Hermione gasped, only for it to transform into a powerful sneeze as the dust also affected her. It took both of them a few moments to stop sneezing and for their eyes to stop watering as the dust calmed. Harry pulled a cloth out of his messenger bag and wiped furiously at his glasses. Once he could see clearly again, he stared at the narrow room they found themselves in.

The stairs had gone farther down than he realized. The room was under the lake and surprisingly free of dust. One whole wall was made up of windows looking out into the lake's waters. Perhaps because of this, the room was lit with a greenish light. Against the wall facing the windows were three long green couches set into the stone. The couches were divided by two sets of steps that led to doorways with carvings of less-than-pretty merpeople on either side of them. The floor was covered with a shaggy, pitch-black rug, and the ceiling was another mosaic, this time with the giant squid on a background of a midnight sky filled with stars created by the use of more glowing stones.

Harry thought it was beautiful. "Let's call it Mermaid's Underlook."

"Sure, but let's get out of here. As fascinating as the magic on those windows is," Hermione shivered and clasped her arms about herself, "this room is kind of creepy. And it's cold."

Frowning, Harry opened his mouth to say something about it not being creepy. He thought the room was actually sort of relaxing. But Hermione was already at one of the doors with her wand tip still casting a glow about her area. Harry sighed and let the matter go. He stood up from where he'd fallen on the floor from his arrival and followed Hermione. Before he shut the door behind him he spared one last glance for the massive, underwater window. It looked out across the bottom of the lake, over beds of underwater plants and large rocks, to a dark shape in the distance that Harry couldn't quite make out. He hoped he could remember where the room was later.

As it turned out, Harry wouldn't have to worry too much about remembering where the entrance to Mermaid's Underlook was. The entrance was in an alcove of the dungeon that was dominated by a tall fountain of greenish colored stone featuring the giant squid and mermaids. The sight was astounding, if not exactly beautiful, and Harry was sure he wouldn't forget the location.

Hermione seemed a little wary of the fountain for some reason, so Harry stepped out into the corridor, expecting to find himself in another corridor empty of life but filled with some aspect of magic or another. Instead he stepped right into Draco Malfoy and ended up sprawled on the floor.

"Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione hurried out of the alcove to help Harry to his feet.

"I'm fine," Harry said, but took her hand anyway.

"Potter! What are you doing down here? This is Slytherin territory. Not Gryffindors-who-crash-into-people territory! And what foul substance have you covered me in?" The blond, who had apparently been saved from falling by Crabbe and Goyle standing a pace behind him, was beating at his robes where some of the cobwebs and dust that still coated Harry had attached themselves to him.

"It's only a bit of spider-web and dust, Malfoy," Harry said, hiding a smile at the over-dramatized expression of disgust the blond was making.

"Spider-web and dust? What are you doing down here, Potter? Thought you'd help the staff by getting the muggleborn do a bit of cleaning?"

Harry frowned at Malfoy's mocking tone and comment, but before he could think of a reply Hermione broke in,

"If you must know, we were exploring the castle, and some of these rooms haven't been touched in ages." She stood tall under Malfoy's superior gaze despite the fact that she was also covered in dust and cobwebs.

"What? So every room that someone hasn't walked through in a few hours becomes impossibly dusty? How Hogwarts standards have fallen. Just wait 'til my father hears about this," Malfoy said. Then he smirked. "Of course, I suppose I already knew Hogwarts standards had fallen since they're letting muggleborn trash into the castle."

"Stop it, Malfoy," Harry said lowly. "Just because your family has more status than a muggleborn in our world doesn't mean they're beneath you."

Malfoy scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. That's exactly what it means."

"Well if you two are done, will one of you kindly tell us the way out of the dungeons?" Hermione directed her question toward Crabbe and Goyle.

Both of them looked mildly surprised for a moment, and then Crabbe lifted his arm to point down the corridor.

"Thank you," Hermione said, grabbing Harry's sleeve and pulling him down the corridor.

"But Hermione," Harry started. He wasn't finished with his discussion with Malfoy yet. He wanted to find out why the arrogant blond thought he had the right to be mean to muggleborns just because he'd had the luck of being born into a pureblood family.

"It's fine, Harry. Let's go."

Harry sighed and went with her. As they went up the stairs at the end of the corridor Harry looked back to see if the Slytherins were still there. They were nowhere in sight. Harry paused. The corridor was practically empty. They'd only passed a couple of alcoves and tapestries. Most of the walls were bare stone. Unless they'd gone into the alcove that held the entrance for the Mermaid's Underlook, which Harry doubted because he suspected Malfoy would have said something about it being a specifically Slytherin place if he'd known about it, they'd vanished into thin air. Then again, there might be another secret passage somewhere. Maybe one like at the Leaky Cauldron where you tapped on the stones of a wall to get to Diagon Alley. Harry wondered if their common room was down there.

"Harry!" Hermione called. "Hurry up! We've still got more of the castle to see!"

Jolted out of his musings, Harry took off up the stairs after Hermione, suddenly remembering his mission to find a room to practice with his dagger in while simultaneously wishing he could give his aching feet a rest.

••••••••

It wasn't until Sunday, after Hermione pulled Harry along to the library when no one else had wanted to go with her, that she asked him about Malfoy's disparaging comments. She was looking down at her Transfiguration text when she asked and didn't look up even though she was obviously no longer reading the passage and knew Harry was watching her.

"Don't listen to Malfoy, Hermione," Harry told her. "His family is one of the many that focuses too much on blood purity. They think muggleborns have dirty blood because they don't come from magical parents and that they shouldn't have the same basic rights as people who do have magical parents because of it. It's all Voldy's fault, really." Hermione was looking up from her book now, Harry noticed, and looked confused. "I mean, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My tutor before Hogwarts, Professor Mercier, told me that before the First Wizarding War being muggleborn only held a stigma if they didn't conform to wizarding culture and tradition, but by the time the war was in its highest point all anyone cared about was blood purity so all muggleborns were treated badly."

"That's awful!" Hermione looked horrified. "I read about the war, of course, in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and a few other books, but they never really mentioned the motivations behind it. They always focus on You-Know-Who and how awful he was before Neville defeated him."

Harry nodded. Mercier had said the same thing and that he was disappointed in the available books on the subject of the war. None of them seemed to take an objective standpoint on the issue, but followed the age-old pattern of the victors writing history their way, which in this case was to focus on the atrocities committed rather than why and how it all happened.

Suddenly Hermione stood up, jostling the small table they were working at and causing Harry's ink to fall off the table. Luckily he had quick reflexes and the bottle was charmed not to spill.

"I'm going to research this," Hermione declared, and then bustled off into the stacks with Harry staring after her.

He wondered what exactly 'this' was that she was going to research.

••••••••

While Hermione was busy with her new project, whatever it was, Harry left the library and climbed up multiple flights of stairs to what he could only describe as Hogwarts' attic. Yesterday, when he and Hermione had finally concluded their day's exploration of the castle, they had come across a wide set of stairs that went up to a massive set of doors with a stone symbol of two swords and a shield perched over it. Harry had been curious as to if it were some kind of weapons training room, but by then it was time for dinner, and he was too hungry and tired after getting lost and missing lunch to continue exploring.

Now Harry stood in front of those impressive doors again. He walked up the short flight of steps and put his hands on the door. The wood was smooth. Not in a polished smooth sort of way, but in a thousands-of-hands-have-touched-this-before-you way. He took a deep breath, and pushed. The doors didn't open.

Feeling a little silly, but not seeing the doors hinges to give him a clue, Harry tried pulling on the door's huge iron rings. It didn't move.

Harry tried touching the door all over and tapping it with his wand, asking it politely, and even tickling it, but it wouldn't budge. He wondered for a moment if the door was actually one of the types Fred and George had told him were walls pretending to be doors, but unless the wall had a really strong sense for the grandiose, it must have been locked. It just seemed to be far too fancy of a door for it to be a wall pretending to be a door.

After taking a cautious look around, Harry pulled his dagger out and attempted to pick the lock. It was a futile effort, and he didn't try for long, afraid he might damage the workings of the lock to the point where it would never be unlocked otherwise. He tucked his dagger back in his bag and stared at the doors for a while, wondering how he could possibly get in.

After a few minutes of staring at the worn wood, Harry decided to give it up for today and find something else to do. Exploring with Hermione had taken up most of his time yesterday and he'd gone right to sleep in his dormitory after dinner, so he hadn't spent much time with the boys in his dorm. Surely they would have something interesting going on.

••••••••

Fred, George, and Lee were exiting Gryffindor's portrait hole just as Harry returned. The instant they saw him Fred and George latched onto him.

"Harry!" They grabbed his shoulders.

"There you are! Back from exploring-" George said.

"-with Ms. Granger, again?" Fred said. "Where is-"

"-the lovely lady?"

"You're a lot cleaner this time, at least," Lee added, grinning.

"No, I wasn't exploring today," Harry told them.

"Ah, I see. George, do you know what I think?"

"I'm fairly certain I do, Fred."

"You've been at the library," the twins said together.

Harry laughed and nodded. "We did our homework and then she started some sort of research project."

"A research project? You've only had one week of classes!" Lee looked scandalized.

"Oh, no," the twins groaned, "she's another Percy!"

"Uh..." Harry's eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. He had no idea what they were talking about. Percy was a prefect for Gryffindor, right? He seemed normal enough, though he did seem to stick to the rules. Then again, Hermione stuck to the rules too. She was sort of a teacher's pet really, or at least most people thought she was. Harry knew she wasn't ever trying to act like a teacher's pet. She wasn't trying to get on their good side or anything. She just knew a lot of the answers to questions teachers asked and believed strongly in class participation. She didn't understand why others didn't also raise their hand when they knew the answer. Was Percy actually a teacher's pet? Or... Well, Harry wasn't sure what else it could be.

"Personal research projects being done by a first year... What is the world coming to?" George said, dramatically leaning against Lee.

"The end of the world must be nearing," Fred added, leaning on Lee's other side.

"Or you two just need to study more," Lee said and smirked as the twins reacted with violent gasps.

"George, do you know what this means!"

"Yes, Fred, I think I do!"

"Lee needs an intervention of pranking," they exclaimed together. They took ahold of Lee's arms and started dragging him down the corridor while Harry openly gaped at them.

Lee smiled and waved at him. "Bye, Harry!"

Harry waved back awkwardly. It wasn't until the trio was out of sight that Harry managed to force himself to turn toward the primping Fat Lady and give the password.

••••••••

Harry found his dorm-mates sequestered in their dormitory. Ron was trying to teach the other boys how to play wizards chess, but he didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. Neville looked very flustered as Ron moved one of his pieces, which reared up to destroy one of Neville's, while Seamus tried to tell Neville what move to make next, and Dean looked on with horror as Ron's pieces literally crushed Neville's.

"How's the game going?" Harry asked despite how obviously Ron was winning. He crossed to his bed and tossed his messenger bag on his trunk at the foot before going to stand by Ron's bed, where the game was set up.

"It's awful, Harry!" Dean turned to him with a sketchbook in hand that had only a few half-hearted scribbles drawn on the open page. "Ron's actually crushing Neville! The pieces just," he made a couple motions with his hands that Harry interpreted as 'slash', 'crunch', and 'crumble', "and that's it! I don't get it! How can you even play again if all the pieces are broken?"

A laugh was trying to bubble up his throat, but Harry managed to hold it back, although his amusement was surely written on his face. "Magic, Dean," Harry said. "After the game's over you cast a mending charm on the broken pieces to fix them."

"Oh," Dean looked a bit relieved, "so they aren't actually, uh, dying?"

This time Harry did chuckle. "No. You have to remember, in the Wizarding World just because something moves doesn't mean it's alive, like... uh, cars, you know?"

Dean smiled. "Right, that makes sense." He set aside his sketchbook. "So, where've you been?"

"He's been with Granger again, hasn't he?" Seamus said while studying the chessboard over Neville's shoulder.

"Uh, yeah," Harry replied.

"I don't know how you can put up with her," Ron groused after making another move that resulted in one of Neville's pawns being crushed with sharp crack and clattering noises. "It's like she's got to know bloody everything, and then she's got to tell you about it!"

"Should've been in Ravenclaw, I think," Seamus added.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "She's not so bad. We had fun exploring the castle yesterday. There are some really cool rooms here, like-"

"Yeah," Dean interrupted, and then pitching his voice in an imitation of Hermione's said, "like in _Hogwarts: A History_?" He chuckled, but it was in a good-natured sort of way.

The other boys laughed, and Harry joined in. Dean's impersonation was funny, even if it didn't sound at all like Hermione.

"Checkmate!" Ron shouted suddenly. Neville groaned. Dean blinked at how utterly demolished the chess pieces were. Seamus placed a consoling hand on Neville's shoulder, bearing a mock-mournful expression.

"Don't worry, Nev." Seamus raised a clenched fist into the air. "I will avenge you!"

"Hold on, I've got to fix the pieces first." Ron pulled out his wand and started mumbling _reparo_ at the chess set while flicking his wand around, but nothing was happening.

Neville turned to Harry. He looked a bit strained, probably because of the chess match. "So, what did you and Hermione do today?"

"We went to the library," Harry told him. "We finished most of our homework. Then she went off about some sort of research project and ran off to, well, research, I guess." Harry scratched the back of his head, feeling sheepish that he didn't actually know what she was researching exactly.

"Ravenclaw," Seamus nodded sagely.

"Aw," Dean sighed. "I completely forgot about our assignments."

Harry stared at him in surprise. "You haven't started any of them yet? It's already late afternoon! Dinner's in..." Harry glanced around, looking for a clock, and found one on Dean's nightstand. "An hour!"

There was much scrambling about as his dorm-mates started to panic about their homework. Harry was a bit disappointed. He'd hoped he would get to hang out and play games with them, become friends with them instead of just roommates, but it certainly didn't seem like that would happen anymore today.

While his roommates collected the supplies they'd need for their homework and prepared to search for a table to do it at in the Common Room, Harry decided to write replies to the letters he'd received Saturday. He really needed to ask his dad to send him a wristwatch. There was a spell that would tell him what time it was, but until he learned and mastered it he'd rather not be late to class.

 **A/N:** So, how do you like Hogwarts? I always wanted to explore some of the rooms on the Marauder's Map and find some more. And it looks like Harry and Hermione are friends now. Drop a review to tell me your thoughts! Constructive criticism and other comments are welcome!

I hope you've all had a happy holiday season and a great start to your new year!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	7. Y1: Flight Challenges

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Wow, this story had a lot of visitors last chapter. I wonder if it's because I hit a number of chapters that people wanting to read a chaptered story are more comfortable starting with. Anyway, I give special thanks to mizzrazz72, Ern Estine 13624, Guest, Kaidyen, and CrisStarTina for leaving some wonderful reviews. Thanks a bunch! Now, who's up for some flying? ;)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 7:** Flight Challenges

Harry was so glad it was Thursday. Today the first years were going to have a real flying lesson. The first Thursday's lesson hadn't been practical, but a lecture about safety procedures and the basic instructions for flight that had left most of the class excruciatingly bored.

This time they would finally get to fly. Although it sounded like they wouldn't get to fly much. According to the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who had their flying lesson on Tuesday, they would pretty much get to fly back and forth across the practice field and that's it. Most people didn't really care though. They were too excited about getting to fly at all to mind how little it was.

The table was buzzing with talk about it. Not that there wasn't usually someone talking about flying at the table, but today all the Gryffindor first-years were. Some of them were like him; Seamus claimed to have flown every chance he got at home, which was almost every day. Harry listened with wide eyes to the others though. They had some pretty fantastic stories.

Ron regaled them with a story of how he'd narrowly avoided hitting a hang-glider when he was flying once. Apparently his younger sister, Ginny, had challenged him to a race and because he kept looking back to make sure she wasn't getting too close he didn't see the hang-glider and barely missed it. He'd been really lucky that the muggle didn't see him.

Fay Dunbar had some rather outstanding stories too, though hers were a bit more humorous. Once she'd gotten stuck in a tree. Another time she did ten laps around her house hanging upside-down on her broom. She did have a couple frightening stories though, such as the time she'd smacked a bludger through her house's window and the ball had taken to demolishing her mum's decorative plates in the living room and chasing her dad about the house until her mum tackled the bludger to the ground.

Still, Harry thought the most impressive story he'd heard drifted into his hearing from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy claimed he'd narrowly escaped muggles in helicopters during one of his flights. Harry had no idea what helicopters were until he heard Malfoy describing them, and he had no idea if Malfoy was making them up or not, but it was an exciting story.

Harry wished he had an exciting story to tell. Unfortunately, his dad had placed charms on his broom that limited how high it could go and what parts of the Potter grounds it could fly in for when he wasn't around to supervise him. As such, his adventures were lack-luster when compared to the others'.

However, at least he could say that he flew. Neville said he's gran wouldn't allow him to fly at home because he was so clumsy that he'd probably kill himself, and the muggleborns had quite a bit of catching up to do in just learning about the existence of brooms. Dean looked excited and was listening to the advice everyone was throwing around, but Hermione looked terrified and had about a dozen books piled in front of her instead of her breakfast as she tried to look up more flying tips to help her.

As the owls flew in with the morning post, Harry tried to reassure her. "Come on, Hermione, you've read those books twice already. You'll be fine, you've just got to relax."

"Relax? But Harry! When you're on a broom you have to be alert! You have to pay attention to the air currents and the people around you, even the birds around you! If you relax for even one second a rogue wind-gust could knock you off!" Hermione spoke a bit frantically, and her hair seemed to be frizzed out more than usual.

A flash of white caught his eye and distracted him from Hermione's continued rant about the delicate and dangerous activity that was flying. It was Hedwig. She flew over with another owl that was also headed to their table and landed gracefully atop his bag, which lay next to him on the bench. She was carrying a letter that bulged a bit at the bottom.

"Thanks girl," he said, taking the letter from her. She hooted at him and fluffed up a bit. Harry chuckled and handed her a piece of bacon, which she readily tore into. Then he opened his letter.

It was from his dad, just a short note this time, promising a longer letter this weekend since he was on a case now, and it contained the wristwatch he'd asked for. Harry instantly loved it. The straps were brown leather, and the face was pearly with black numbers. In the center of the face, where the clock hands met, was an upraised image of the body of a Golden Snitch, and the hands, which were connected out of sight below the Snitch's body, were the Snitch's silver wings. He quickly strapped it onto his left wrist, the charmed leather and buckle adjusting to fit him.

"Harry! Are you even listening to me?" Hermione demanded.

"Uh, sorry, Hermione." Harry grinned sheepishly, "But I've already gotten that lecture before."

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Of course," she said snappishly, "I bet flying comes so easily to you."

Harry blinked, surprised and wondering what he'd done that was worth getting snippy over.

Suddenly she was looking at the boy next to him. "Oh! Neville, what's that?"

Looking over, Harry saw that the owl that had flown over with Hedwig had brought a package to Neville. The Boy-Who-Lived had received some sort of glass ball decorated with golden swirls that contained some sort of white, wispy vapor.

"It's a Remembral," Neville explained. "The smoke's supposed to..." Neville paused. The white smoke started to get bigger and resemble a storm cloud, only now it was red. "Do that when you've forgotten something," Neville sighed.

Hermione was staring at the Remembral in fascination. Harry frowned at it. "I don't suppose it tells you what you've forgotten, then?"

Neville sighed again, staring at the Remembral. "Nope."

Suddenly, the Remembral was gone from Neville's hand, and everyone looked up to see Malfoy with the ball balanced on his fingertips and a sneer on his face. "A Remembral, Longbottom? Really?" He drawled. "Why would anyone want one of these old things? Where'd you get it? The junk heap?"

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, quickly standing up and almost tripping over the bench in his haste.

"Oh, I see. You got it at the Weasleys' house. That'd be a junk heap if I ever saw one," Malfoy drawled. His eyes were locked on Ron's face, which was steadily growing redder in obvious rage.

"Mr. Malfoy," A sharp, stern voice rang out over the table, and they all looked up to see Professor McGonagall striding towards them. "I suggest you return that object to its rightful owner before you find yourself in detention."

Malfoy scowled, but handed the Remembral back to Neville before turning about and heading for the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle following, though Harry hadn't even noticed they'd been with him until now.

"Back to your seat, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. Ron's face was still flushed in anger, but he did as he was told. Then the professor left, returning to the head table.

The moment she was out of earshot, Ron started complaining about Malfoy. A few others pitched in. The general consensus seemed to be that Malfoy was a git and a snob and that he was the meanest boy in their year.

Harry agreed with them except for that he wasn't sure about Malfoy being the meanest boy in their year since it was only their second week, and he didn't really know any of the other boys that well. He wasn't paying too close of attention to the conversation though. He was more curious about how easily Malfoy had snatched the Remembral out of Neville's grip and held it afterward. Malfoy had Seeker reflexes. Harry was sure of it. He remembered that the blond had said he wanted to be Seeker on his House Team the first time Harry'd met him. Now Harry thought Malfoy might actually do it.

••••••••

That afternoon the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins followed Madam Hooch down to the practice field. The grassy space was surrounded by stone walls that had rounded indents here and there the size of bludgers.

Lying at the center of the field in two rows were the brooms they'd be using. Harry was a bit surprised. They looked quite old, the grips were noticeably thinner than the rest of the broom, as if the hands of new flyers had squeezed it so hard for so long that the grip was compacted under their nervous holds. The tails of the brooms were messy, twigs were sticking out every which-way, making them look sort of like a curled up knarl's pins. Staring at them, Harry couldn't help but wonder if they'd even be able to get up into the air, although he knew they could, seeing as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had managed it.

"Alright! Everyone stand by a broom!" Madam Hooch ordered. "This broom will be the broom you'll use for the rest of the year!"

Anyone who knew anything about brooms scrambled to get a spot by the best ones. By some unspoken agreement, the Slytherins selected only brooms from the left row while the Gryffindors only selected brooms from the right. Harry ended up with Ron and Hermione standing on either side of him, and Neville on Ron's other side. Unfortunately, Malfoy stood across from him.

Harry expected Malfoy to sneer at him or make a sarcastic comment about the quality of his broom. Instead, the blond was surprisingly silent and was giving Harry an oddly distant look. It was strange, but Harry was too distracted by Hermione's incessant mumbling of reassurances to herself to think about what Malfoy was up to.

"Hermione!" Harry started, but them Madam Hooch's next command came.

"Good! Now, as we discussed in class, everyone hold your hand out over your broom and say 'Up'," Madam Hooch demonstrated as she spoke, and her broom went right into her hand with a solid thwack.

Cries of 'up' echoed off the practice field's walls as they tried to get their brooms to listen to them. Harry's rose to his hand immediately. The same happened for Malfoy and Fay Dunbar. Ron's was a bit sluggish, but also rose readily. Most of the others got the broom to rise after repeating the command a few times, but Hermione seemed to be doomed. Her broom would do little more than roll and shake in place, and finally she had to pick it up.

Madam Hooch then told them to mount their brooms, and they all complied and stood there awkwardly as they waited for her to finish her instructions on what to do next. Harry was only half-listening to what she said as she walked around adjusting grips and explaining loudly as she went the importance of correctly gripping your broom. He just wanted to fly already. As such, he missed it when the next instructions were given and Neville suddenly rose into the air. It was impossible to miss the sudden gasps, Madam Hooch's demands, and Neville's shouts for help, however.

Harry instinctively gripped his broom tighter in preparation to go up and help, but Neville was going faster and faster and getting tossed around rather spectacularly. All he could really do was stare in horror from his spot on the ground. Then Neville fell from his broom. Harry felt his breath catch and then release when Neville's robe was caught on part of the practice field's walls, only for it to catch again as Neville's robe tore and he fell the rest of the way to the ground. Meanwhile, the rider-less broom floated away on the breeze.

Madam Hooch was already rushing towards Neville's prone figure, and the rest of the students were soon hurrying after her. Harry was relieved to see that Neville was not too badly hurt when they crowded around and Madam Hooch pronounced his only injury to be a broken wrist.

"Flying is dangerous," Hermione muttered in a panicky voice from her position next to him. Harry opened his mouth to say something again, but then closed it. Flying was dangerous, his dad had told him enough times and he'd heard enough horror stories about what could happen on the Quidditch pitch, but it was fun too. He just wished Hermione didn't look so terrified of the very broom she held now. Even her magical aura gave off a sense of fear.

Madam Hooch announced her intent to bring Neville to the infirmary before giving the rest of them a glare with her hawk-like eyes. Hermione actually gasped when they were threatened with expulsion if they dared to fly without Madam Hooch's supervision. The others just looked on as Madam Hooch took Neville away with serious expressions. The joviality from earlier in the day was gone.

That's when Malfoy announced his discovery. "Well what have we here?"

Everyone turned where Malfoy stood at the edge of the group. Harry had a sinking feeling, but turned as well. Sure enough, Malfoy was wearing a sneer and had a strange glint in his eyes. In his hand was Neville's Remembral, the vapor inside wispy and white.

Harry and Malfoy locked eyes, and the glint in Malfoy's eyes seemed to become more prominent. "Do you think if the great Boy-Who-Lived had given this a squeeze, it would have reminded him to land on his fat arse?"

Laughter rang out from amongst the Slytherins. Harry narrowed his eyes. Ron shouted, "Give it over you slimy snake!"

"No, I don't think I will." Malfoy kept his eyes trained on Harry's, smoothly mounted his broom, and took off into the cool air, rising twice their height before he stopped. Suddenly, he looked thoughtful, but Harry knew it was fake. "Maybe I should hide it for him to find somewhere. Like in a tree, or on the roof."

Finally, Harry found his voice. "You should give it back to Neville, Malfoy," he shouted up to the floating Slytherin.

"Now why would I do that?" Malfoy smirked. "Sorry, Potter. If you want it, you're going to have to come and get it, but that shouldn't be a problem for you, right? You play Seeker's games, don't you?

Harry scowled fiercely. What was with Malfoy? "Give it back, Malfoy!"

"Nope!" Malfoy juggled the Remembral about a bit. "Whoops! Almost lost it that time!" he said exaggeratedly. The Slytherins laughed again.

Harry huffed and started to mount his broom. There weren't any teachers around. He'd play Malfoy's game, show him what kind of Seeker he was, and get Neville's Remembral back. He could walk away, but what kind of friend would he be if he didn't watch out for his friend's stuff?

Hermione tried to stop him. "No, Harry! You'll be expelled!"

"I doubt it," Harry muttered. He'd heard too many stories about the crazy things his dad, Sirius, and Remus had done in school to think he'd be expelled for flying unsupervised. Ignoring Hermione's next protests, Harry rose into the air. The broom was a little shaky, but then he hadn't managed to get one of the nicer brooms like Malfoy had. Soon he was level with the other boy, who looked very relaxed in the air. Harry sent him a glare.

Malfoy's smirk grew. He gave Harry a small wave and said, "Nice to see you, Potter. Do you think you can catch this?" Malfoy threw the Remembral, hard. It soared through the air, rushing to crash into the wall of the practice field.

But Harry had quickly spun about and flown after it the instant it was thrown over his head. The ball was falling quickly, and Harry's broom wasn't very fast, but he pushed for the extra speed as much as he could. Shortly before the Remembral could smash into a thousand pieces against the wall, Harry nicked it clean out of the air.

Harry held the Remembral up victoriously and angled to see what Malfoy thought of his catch, but Malfoy wasn't there. He was back on the ground, where the cheering Gryffindors had suddenly fallen silent.

"Mr. Potter!"

He almost dropped to the ground he flew down so fast. Harry was in so much trouble, he was sure of it. He ducked his head as McGonagall strode towards him, parting the group of Gryffindors in her direct path.

"Mr. Potter, come with me. As for the rest of you. I expect you to keep all feet firmly on the ground until Madam Hooch's return," McGonagall said sternly, then she went back the way she came, leaving Harry to hurry along after her.

As the professor led him into the castle and down the Charms Corridor, Harry tried to figure out what McGonagall was thinking. He wasn't able to read people's magical auras very well unless they were feeling a particularly strong emotion, but while McGonagall looked composed, it seemed she was actually feeling a lot. He expected her aura to feel furious or at least angry, like Lily's would when he messed up, but instead Harry sensed a completely different emotion. Professor McGonagall's magic popped and bubbled around her in a way he could only describe as deliriously happy. It was confusing. Why wouldn't she be mad at him?

McGonagall stopped at a Charms classroom and knocked before slipping in, leaving Harry outside. Through the door, he thought he heard her ask if she could borrow wood. What she would need wood for that had to do with Harry he had no idea, and his confusion only increased when she exited the classroom with a boy who looked to be in fifth year or so following her.

"Harry," she said, speaking quickly and wearing an openly excited expression, "this is Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain." Then she looked at Wood while making a grand gesture toward Harry. "I believe I have found us a Seeker!"

Harry felt his jaw drop and his eyes go wide. Seeker?

••••••••

Youngest Seeker in a Century. That was his title now. Sitting down for supper, Harry still felt a bit blindsided by the whole thing. He hadn't really thought he'd be expelled for flying when he wasn't supposed to, but he'd expected a detention at least, not to be put on Gryffindor's Quidditch team. It was all a bit baffling, but he could feel excitement building up beneath the shock.

"Harry. Harry!" Hermione was looking at him worriedly as she took her seat across from him. "What happened? Did she expel you? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, uh..." Harry tried to think of how to respond.

"Enjoying your last meal here, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

Harry whirled around on the bench to see him, and Crabbe and Goyle, standing behind him. Malfoy was sneering at Harry, but Harry could tell that something was off. The blond's words hadn't held much bite and his eyes looked off, wider than they were supposed to be or something. Harry's eyes narrowed in his confusion. Why did they all automatically assume he'd been expelled? He would have thought the whole school and all its portraits would have been talking about it if he'd actually been expelled. But what did it matter? He'd just been made Youngest Seeker in a Century.

A smile split his face. He grinned at Malfoy, who blinked rapidly at him in either surprise or shock and took a step back. "Actually, Malfoy," Harry said, "I am, but it's not my last meal, it's my first meal as Youngest Seeker in a Century."

Harry heard how all the people within hearing-range of his statement stilled and gasped, but he kept his gaze on Malfoy, who looked positively gobsmacked.

"Shoo, shoo! Off with you now!" Fred said suddenly, getting between Malfoy and Harry with George right beside him.

"No gawkers! Don't need our new Seeker getting a big head before he's been tested yet, yeah?" George said.

"Congrats, Harry!"

"Wood just told us!"

"We're on the team too!"

"Beaters!"

In the background, Harry could see Malfoy slink off wearing a thunderous expression.

"Really?" Harry said.

"You bet!" Fred replied and stood proudly.

"We'll see ya at practice, Harry," George said.

"Yeah, Lee's got something to show us now."

"Might be another passageway out of the school, but I doubt it's one we don't already know if it is."

Harry's eyes widened. There were ways out of the castle that weren't the obvious ones? Before he could ask, Fred and George were on their way. Telling himself he'd have to ask the twins about these secret passages later, Harry turned back to the table, where his appointment as Gryffindor's Seeker was the sole topic of conversation. It was a little unnerving, how his housemate's eyes would rove over him as if searching for some special thing that would qualify him as Gryffindor's best Seeker since Charlie Weasley. According to Ron, Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since his second-oldest brother graduated.

The pressure being placed on him as Gryffindor's Seeker suddenly seemed enormous. Harry shook slightly. Somehow he had to make all these people happy so they'd stop staring at him. That meant he'd have to win the Quidditch Cup. Could he do that? Was it even possible? He was only a first-year!

He didn't feel very hungry anymore, but forced himself to eat a bit with the others. As the meal continued, talk about Quidditch didn't calm down, but it did stop being about him specifically. People still glanced at him from time to time as well, but they weren't staring at him any longer.

Slowly, Harry started to relax again, his housemates' excitement creeping up on him. He was the Youngest Seeker in a Century. What would Dad think of that? He'd probably yell at him for disobeying the rules and then congratulate him. Sirius would say James had lost his Marauder moxie and probably act like he knew all along that Harry was destined to be Gryffindor's Seeker or some tripe. He wasn't sure what Mercier would say. He was excited to write them all with the news.

Once the group of first years were done eating, they rose together and left the Great Hall, intending to head for Gryffindor Tower. Harry walked at the back of the pack, still disinclined to insert himself in any kind of tight quarters with too many people. He was a short distance outside the Hall, just about to mount the first set of stairs when he heard someone call his name behind him. He turned, and there was Malfoy.

Malfoy's face was even more pinched than it usually was. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth slightly open. A faint tinge of pink suffused his skin. For a moment, Harry wondered if Malfoy was feeling well. He looked like he might be ill.

Stopping a few strides away from Harry, Malfoy glared at him and said, "I don't know how you convinced Professor McGonagall to put you on the team, but you won't last out on the pitch. And just you wait, I'll get on the Slytherin team, and then you won't stand a chance! I'll fly circles around you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy. I didn't convince her. She decided on her own to put me on the team," Harry said. He couldn't believe Malfoy thought he'd done something to make McGonagall put him on the team. That would be so, well, Slytherin, and it wasn't like he tried to do it!

"Sure, Potter," Malfoy sneered, "You tell yourself that. It doesn't matter in the end. I'm still a better flyer than you, you'll see!"

Harry sent him a dirty look. What was Malfoy's problem? This argument was idiotic! "Don't be so sure, Malfoy!" Harry returned.

"Yeah, Malfoy! Piss off! Harry's a way better flier than you!"

Harry started. He hadn't realized any of the others had stopped to watch his and Malfoy's conversation, but there was Ron, standing a few steps up the stairs and wearing the irked expression he always had around Malfoy. Hermione was there too, watching from the top of the staircase. The other Gryffindors must have continued on without them or hadn't noticed the confrontation taking place behind them and kept going because they were nowhere in sight.

Malfoy's sneer turned into a smirk. "Well he's surely better than you. How long did it take for the broom to rise to your hand? Talk about slow. Though I suppose with how slow your mind works it all evens out, eh?"

Ron's face turned a bright red that clashed horribly with his hair, and quickly drew his wand. "Slow? I'll show you slow, you little- Hey!"

Harry had grabbed Ron's wrist and pushed it down so the wand was pointing at the ground instead of Malfoy. "Ron, stop! We're right by the Great Hall! Do you want to get caught?"

"What's this? Want to duel, Weasley?" Malfoy still wore his sneer, but it was different. He stood in a stance with one foot further behind the other and his hand in his robe, obviously ready to draw his own wand. Harry couldn't see Malfoy's eyes well, but he had a feeling they were glinting oddly like they had when he threw Neville's Remembral. "Sorry, but I don't duel with redheads. You wouldn't stand a chance and where's the fun in that? I'll take Potter on though. I'll show you I'm not only the better flier, but the better duelist as well!"

"I'll be his second!" Ron answered instantly. "Meet you in the trophy room at midnight! You'd better be there, Malfoy!"

Harry looked between the furious redhead and scowling blond, not entirely sure of what was happening. "Wait. What's-"

"I'll be there," Malfoy said darkly, then spun about on his heel and stalked off toward the dungeons before Harry could try and stop the madness.

After Malfoy was out of sight, Ron turned to him with a growl in his voice. "Don't worry mate, I know a few tricks we can use to get him. The slimy snake won't know what hit him!"

Harry blinked a few times as everything settled into place. Then he said lowly, "Ron, did you just enter me in a duel with Draco Malfoy?"

"Really, don't worry about it. If anything happens to you, I'll come in and blast him away! Stupid git'll be terrified."

Harry's jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists at his sides. He wasn't sure what he should be more affronted about. That Ron got him in a duel with ruddy Draco Malfoy. Or that his redheaded dorm-mate was so certain Harry would lose. Before he could even begin to think of how to respond to Ron, Hermione made her presence known.

"Well you can't actually duel him. It's against school rules! Besides, you can't break curfew, and if you did you'd almost certainly be caught." She still stood at the top of the stairs and there was a determined expression on her face. "You shouldn't even consider going out. Malfoy probably won't. And if he does, then he'll likely be caught just as easily as you would be."

Scowling, Harry looked at the floor and tapped the toe of his shoe against the step in front of him angrily. There was a point to what Hermione was saying. He didn't want to get caught out after curfew or get caught dueling Malfoy. Either instance was sure to warrant a detention, if not expulsion for dueling, even if they only knew a few spells, none of which were particularly suited to dueling. However, Harry didn't think he could back out. It would be a deep strike against his and his family's honor if he didn't at least attempt to show up for the duel, and for him to be a burden on the family honor at only eleven was unthinkable. He had to go.

"That's not how it works, Granger! A wizards' duel is sacred," Ron said importantly.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione responded, rolling her eyes before training them on Harry. "Don't think on it anymore, Harry. You've already nearly been expelled once today!" Then, with a stomp of her foot, she hurried on her way, obviously expecting them to follow.

Softly, Ron whispered, "You'll go, right?"

Harry sighed and pushed up his spectacles more out of habit than because they slid down. "Yeah. Meet me in the Common at eleven thirty. The prefects will be in-between their rounds then."

"Great," Ron said, grinning.

"What are you two hanging about the halls for?"

"Nothing, Percy!" Ron practically shouted. His eyes had gone wide.

Harry turned around to see Percy Weasley looking at them with obvious suspicion written in his features. His eyes were narrowed behind his glasses, his arms were crossed, and his foot was tapping. Harry had only really met Percy twice, when he met him from on train ride when he'd summoned Neville's toad for them and vaguely from his first night at Hogwarts, when he'd led the first year Gryffindors to Gryffindor Tower. In both cases he'd been wearing his red and gold prefect badge and born a serious, if slightly exasperated expression. It was mostly the same now, only this time Percy looked more suspicious and he had something purple bulging out of his worn leather satchel.

"Right," Percy said shortly. "On your way then. You're blocking the staircase."

Harry was bewildered. Blocking the staircase? There was no one around but the three of them. The rest were either still in the Great Hall or already up the stairs and out of sight. Nevertheless, Harry replied, "Yes, Prefect," and grabbed Ron's wrist, tugging him up the stairs before the younger Weasley could give anything away or the elder could stop smiling about being so respectfully referred to and wonder about why they tried to get away so quickly.

As they went, Ron sputtered, "Yes, Prefect? Are you serious? You're spending far too much time around that Granger girl."

Biting back a comment about how they'd essentially made him spend time with her when they always left him out of the partnering up during class, Harry strode on. There were lots of thoughts circulating in his head, but only one was really clear through his anger.

His grimoire was going to have a lot to hear about this.

 **A/N:** Oh, Harry's not happy with Ron right now, lol. On another note, I'm thinking I should change this story's summary to something less... dull (a word I now realize I used twice in the summary without any sort of good affect). Any thoughts? Agree? Disagree? As always, please review! Constructive criticism and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	8. Y1: Duel Discoveries

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Sorry this is later than usual! I intended to get this chapter up last Saturday, but I ran out of time to finish revising before I needed to prepare for the Yule Ball (that's correct, I went to a Harry Potter Yule Ball, and it was great!). Then I had terrible trouble uploading to the doc manager and wasn't able to put it up all week. But it's here now! I really liked writing this chapter despite its difficulty, so hopefully you'll all like reading it! A big thank-you to Ern Estine 13624, MSupernatural, and Kaidyen for reviewing! Enjoy! :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 8:** Duel Discoveries

 _Dear Grimoire,_

 _It seems I have been entered in a duel. Unwillingly. By Ron Weasley. You remember him. I already knew he and Draco Malfoy hated each other, they have a blood feud going on between their families along with the differing views on blood superiority, and they mock each other all the time. I swear those two live to argue. I never expected their arguments to go so far as for Ron to include me in his 'Malfoy Battle Plans' though. Maybe I should have. I don't exactly know what was up with Malfoy, but I think he was trying to get me to argue with him like he does to Ron, only about me getting a position on Gryffindor's Quidditch team when he claimed to be a better flier. OH! That's right, I forgot to tell you._

 _I'm the Youngest Seeker in a Century. It's a long story, but basically Malfoy was being a git and threw Neville's Remembral during our flying lessons. I caught it before it could smash against the wall. Professor McGonagall saw me catch it and well... I became Gryffindor's Seeker._

 _Back on topic, Ron broke into my and Malfoy's... conversation (?) and they argued like usual, but this time they somehow pulled me into it and now I have to meet Malfoy in the trophy room at midnight and duel him or risk harming my personal honor and that of my family. This also includes the risks of being caught for dueling and expelled, or just being caught out after curfew and given detention._

 _Why'd they have to include me in any of this! Seems I have no choice though. Hopefully my luck will be working and everything will be fine. Guess I have to go now. I'm supposed to meet Ron in the common room at 11:30, and I think the others are finally asleep._

 _Strange though, Neville's not come back from the hospital wing yet. Madam Hooch said he'd only broken a wrist. I hope it's not something worse. I can't believe he managed to lose control of his broom so badly._

Harry put down his fountain pen and blew on the ink a little to help it dry faster. This time he'd written in red. It seemed a fitting color to use when he was angry. Once the ink dried, he closed up his grimoire and put it in his messenger bag. Momentarily, he wondered if he should bring it along or leave it in the dorm, but very thought of parting from his grimoire made him feel uncomfortable. Quietly, he lifted the bag over his shoulder and crept out of the dorm in an attempt not to wake the two sleeping, and in Seamus's case snoring, boys.

Down in the common room, Harry found Ron, who was being lectured at by Hermione and looked close to snapping. Harry would have said he was surprised... but he wasn't. It seemed like typical Hermione for her to stay up late just to make sure they didn't do anything stupid. He was going to have to disappoint her.

"Harry! Where are you going?" Hermione said as he slipped past her and out the portrait hole, Ron hot on his heels. She followed them out into the torch-lit corridor, whispering furiously, "Harry, you can't seriously be doing this! Do you have any idea how may rules you're breaking?" She was so intent on getting Harry to listen to her that she didn't notice the portrait closing behind her.

"Oh, thank Merlin!"

"Not you too, Neville!" Hermione whisper shouted.

Neville pulled himself up from his seat on the floor. "What are you talking about? No, never mind. I'm just glad someone's here! I got out of the hospital wing, but when I got to the portrait I couldn't remember the password and the Fat Lady wouldn't let me in!"

"Rotten luck, mate," Ron said, "but you're just in time for our duel!"

"Duel?"

"Yes," Harry said bitterly, "Ron got me in a duel with Draco Malfoy. We have to be in the trophy room to meet him at midnight. Oh, and I have your Remembral. You dropped it earlier." Harry pulled the orb out of his pocket and handed it over to a suddenly beaming Neville.

"Wow! Thanks! I thought I must have broken it in the fall. Gran would've killed me if that happened."

"You all right then?" Ron asked. "That broom went totally bonkers!"

Neville rubbed at his wrist and frowned. "I've just got a few bruises, and Madam Pomfrey fixed my wrist, but she wouldn't let me out of the hospital wing until she was sure I was well. Listen though," Neville's voice became very serious, if a bit shaky, "I think there was something controlling my broom. I kept trying to correct it or make it go down like we talked about in class, but it wouldn't let me! Then, when Madam Hooch and I were leaving the field, I saw Snape looking down at me from one of the windows, and he looked terrifying! I've never seen him so furious!"

Ron looked confused. "What, you mean you think your broom was tampered with?"

Recalling the cases his dad told him about and mystery stories he'd read, Harry caught on faster than the redhead. He looked at Neville with wide eyes. "You think Snape jinxed your broom?"

It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. Snape seemed to hate Neville, which was a bit shocking seeing as they'd only known the man for about two weeks. In class Snape was horrible to the Boy-Who-Lived, always frightening him and tripping him up so that his potion would go wrong and Snape could deduct more points from Gryffindor. When Neville happened across Snape outside of class the potions professor was certain to find something else to dock points for too.

Of course, Snape treated Harry the same way, but there was something somehow colder about the way Snape treated Neville. With Harry, Snape's actions and words were always heated, and his deep-seated dislike of Harry made obvious. With Neville though... Snape's actions and words were distant and cold, like mountaintop snow waiting to turn into an avalanche and crush its victim.

That seemed like hatred to Harry, but not for the first time he wished he could read the potions professor's magical aura. Unfortunately, his professor's aura was somehow... guarded was the only way he could explain it, and sadly he doubted he'd be able to tell if it was hatred Snape felt by reading it. He'd never seen an aura of hatred before, or he didn't think he had anyway. Perhaps if he could see Snape's aura he'd be able to sense ill intent towards Neville, but he wasn't able to see the man's aura. It was very frustrating to think about now that he had a real reason to see Snape's aura besides his own curiosity.

"That's mad," Hermione said severely, " _Professor_ Snape is a teacher! He'd never do something to harm a student. Not to mention that the headmaster would never allow someone in the school who might do such a thing."

"I don't know, Hermione..." Harry said hesitantly.

"You've got to be joking," Ron interrupted. "Snape hates Neville! And Dumbledore's hardly here. He could do whatever he likes!"

Neville went pale, and Harry gasped at what Ron was insinuating.

"Enough! You're all being utterly ridiculous. If you lot want to get expelled then go ahead, I'm going back to bed!" Hermione faced the portrait and stopped. The Fat Lady wasn't in her frame. With no one to give the password to, she couldn't get back in.

Harry shook his head and started walking down the hall. They were wasting time and this discussion could wait for later. He needed to get to the duel on time in order to protect his honor. Ron and Neville immediately followed him, Ron gripping Neville's shoulder at first to push the pale boy along before letting go as the boy followed on his own. Harry called over his shoulder, "Coming, Hermione?" He could hear the witch behind him huff, and she was probably lifting her eyes towards the ceiling, but a few seconds later he could hear her footsteps following along.

Now he just needed to get to the trophy room on time while avoiding any prefects or professors making their rounds as well as avoiding any ghosts, Peeves, Filch, or Mrs. Norris. It would probably be best if they didn't wake any of the portraits either. Harry mentally groaned. Tonight was going to be a long night.

••••••••

The trophy room looked very different at night. When he and Hermione had explored it, it had been all bright light, shining surfaces, and the scent of metal polish. The room still smelled of metal polish, but the low torchlight made the plaques and trophies gleam eerily and the cases seem somehow haunting as they reared up in the room.

Harry glanced at his watch. It was only a minute away from midnight. Malfoy wasn't anywhere in plain sight though. Was he hiding? Waiting until the bell tolled to step out and declare the start of the duel? Harry didn't believe Malfoy would back down, his pride wouldn't allow it. Would it?

The bell rang out. Its deep, resounding bong blanketed the whole castle with its clear sound as it extolled the midnight hour. Harry lifted the strap of his bag from his shoulder and gently set it at the foot of the trophy case holding the Quidditch Cup. He removed his wand from its holster and called out, "Malfoy, are you there? I've come to honor the agreement."

There was movement in the shadows, and then a dark figure stepped into the torchlight. The hood of the person's robe was up, casting their face in shadow, and they had their wand drawn. "What's this, Potter? You've brought quite the party with you."

It was unmistakably Malfoy's voice, but there was an edge to it. Harry scanned the room, looking for Malfoy's second. There was no one there. Malfoy came alone. Even though Harry was sure their duel wasn't going to be the traditional to-the-death duel, he was still surprised Malfoy didn't make a show of it by having a second, especially after Ron had announced his position so loudly earlier.

"They wanted to come," Harry said with a shrug. "All rules will be upheld, of course."

Malfoy seemed to relax at Harry's reassurance. He pulled his hood back saying, "Good. I would hate for anything untoward to happen."

Harry blinked at the blond. His hair was so strongly slicked back with gel that it shone almost like a helmet in the torchlight, and the hood of his robe hadn't brushed even a few hairs out of place when it was removed. Fighting back a chuckle, Harry asked, "So how do you want to do this?"

"We'll get in position by the windows. It's the only place that doesn't have trophy cases getting in the way. As for the rules, the standard tournament rules apply, of course, and for this specific duel we'll fight until one of us is either knocked down or yields, agreed?"

"Why? You couldn't get anyone to be your second for a real duel?" Ron snarled.

Harry wanted to whip around and tell Ron that if he wanted to duel Malfoy so badly then he should have challenged him himself instead of dragging Harry into it, but he held back. He needed to get Ron to be quiet.

"Ron! Stop it!" Hermione whispered harshly, "It's already bad enough that we're out after curfew, do you want us to get caught as well? Be quiet!"

Across the room, Malfoy had tensed and his eyes had narrowed. "How stupid are you, Weasley?"

"Smarter than you, you slimy-"

"Stop!" Harry whispered so stridently his throat hurt. Ron fell silent, surprised. Turning back to Malfoy, Harry said, "I agree to those terms."

Malfoy eased out of his tense stance once again, but this time it seemed more forced. "Very well then. Let's take our positions. Longbottom can be the officiator."

Looking to Neville, Harry asked, "Is that all right with you?" Neville nodded jerkily. "As you wish, then," he told Malfoy, and they began to move into their positions at either end of the trophy room's long bank of windows that overlooked the grounds. "Come on, Neville. Stand between us, but to the side so you're not in the way."

Neville took in a shaky breath and did as he was told. Ron and Hermione moved to stand on the imagined sidelines between Harry and Neville, leaving Malfoy's end of the mock arena quite empty. Ron was fingering his wand and wore a dreadful scowl while glaring in Malfoy's direction. Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip, and her gaze was darting back and forth between the two opponents and Neville.

Harry stepped into a dueling stance he'd seen Mercier use when he was demonstrating how great, history altering duels of the past had unfolded. Across from him, Malfoy took a similar stance. Neville stuck his hand out between them, blocking part of Malfoy from Harry's view. Bringing the plan he'd formed during the trip here to the front of his mind, Harry licked his lips a touch nervously and grinned crookedly in anticipation.

Now that he was here, that this was happening, Harry was excited for the duel. This would be an adventure, so long as Ron didn't try to involve himself. He wondered if Malfoy could feel it too. The blond's eyes were glinting again, even in the low torchlight, but there was a fierce determination there as well that Harry recognized in himself whenever he tried to complete a daunting task or catch the Snitch. Harry's anticipation grew, and then Neville quickly raised his hand up and out of the way while giving a strangled whisper of,

"Begin!"

" _Lumos_!" Harry said intently, and was greeted with a blinding flash of light that wasn't his own. Surprised that his own plan had been used against him, Harry rushed into his next spell despite being unable to see clearly yet. " _Colovaria_!" he gasped as the floor beneath him went soft and squishy without warning, and he stumbled and fell with a yelp.

Sitting on the soft floor and blinking back his vision, Harry was startled when a loud burst of laughter came from Ron, along with some giggles from Hermione. As his sight returned, Harry looked up at his housemates to see Neville gaping like a fish, Hermione holding a her hands over her mouth to restrain her laughter, and Ron openly, and rather loudly, laughing and pointing in Malfoy's direction. Confused, Harry turned his head to look at the blond and discovered that he wasn't so blond anymore.

He was red. Bright red, like the engine of the Hogwarts Express. His clothes, his hair, even his skin was red, and surprisingly shiny, almost like he'd been given scales. Harry wagered the only part of him that wasn't shiny red was his eyes, which looked positively furious as he glared at his hands. Then, however, those eyes rose and landed on Harry.

Malfoy's eyes lit up, and a victorious smirk filled his face, baring his teeth and showing that they, like his eyes, had escaped the color changing charm. "I win," he declared, sounding deliriously smug.

Ron stopped laughing and looked to Harry. His expression soured as he took in the sight of Harry sitting on the floor with his legs sprawled in front of him and his arms thrown back behind him to hold his upper body up. Harry looked away from the unpleasant emotion displayed on Ron's face and moved his attention to Malfoy.

"I concede defeat," Harry sighed and dipped his head in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy, still smirking, opened his mouth to say something.

"Mrreow! Meow! Meow!"

Everyone's eyes flashed to the doorway behind Malfoy, even Malfoy, who had to spin around to do so. Standing under a sconce was an old, tatty cat with stringy fur and large yellow eyes that was beginning to yowl.

"I-it's Mrs. Norris!" Neville voiced, looking panicked.

"Filch's cat!" Ron practically shouted, "We've got to go!"

Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and went for his bag, ignoring Hermione's shriek of 'I told you we'd be caught!' and how the Gryffindors were rushing for the door they'd come in through. After slinging his bag on, he bumped shoulders with Malfoy while heading for the doorway. "Malfoy! What're you-?"

"Shut it, Potter! That demon-cat's blocking my exit," Malfoy said while raising his very red hood, "and put your hood up if you don't want to be seen, idiot!"

Harry took Malfoy's advice and pulled his hood up as they took off running after Ron, Neville, and Hermione, side by side, with Mrs. Norris hot on their trail and the sound of Filch shouting for his cat and the people she'd found behind them. They slid around a corner and almost slammed into the Gryffindors, who were stopped and staring at a little floating man wearing brightly colored clothes and a hat adorned with bells.

Feeling his stomach sink, Harry recalled the first time he'd seen Peeves. Then the poltergeist had revealed a couple kissing in a side corridor while students were walking between classes and began singing a made-up love song about the couple loud enough that the whole castle could hear. Currently, Peeves had a Cheshire grin stretching his face. He looked down at them with malicious orange eyes and tisked,

"What's this? A bunch of firsties? You're in trouble now." He floated toward the ceiling and started yelling, "FIRSTIES OUT OF BED! FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!"

"Run!" Harry shouted, and the Gryffindors were jolted back into action. Panicking, they sprinted down the corridor.

At the next intersection, Mrs. Norris was waiting for them, still meowing and with Filch's voice hearable down the hall she appeared from.

"Scatter!" Malfoy screamed upon seeing the cat, and turned left, bumping into Harry.

Harry staggered and toppled toward a tapestry. Trying to stop his fall, Harry reached for the closest thing to him, which turned out to be Malfoy's robe. Pulling Malfoy down with him, Harry could only hope there was a secret passageway like the one Fred and George had taken him through behind this tapestry.

They hit the tapestry and fell though it. Harry landed hard on a slanted surface and all the breath was knocked out of him as Malfoy fell atop him. The extra force was all that was needed for Harry to start sliding down the passage, and Malfoy with him. Harry tried to grab the sides of the passage to stop their descent, but the walls were smooth, slopped, and polished slick. He couldn't get a grip.

"Potter, what-" Malfoy gasped and tried to sit up in the pitch black space, but his movement only caused them to slide more quickly, and then they were off, moving with increasing speed down a sharply slopping passage that was quickly becoming more tunnel-like.

••••••••

It was a surprisingly quiet ride. Air rushed past Harry's ears as they sped down the dark tunnel, and the only other sounds came from when either Harry or Malfoy gave short, muffled sound of pain when they hit the sides of the tunnel or each other during sharp turns. They were going so fast Harry felt like they could be flying. Then Harry thought he saw a faint glow ahead of him, and seconds later felt heavy cloth brush against him and they plummeted over the lip of the tunnel and onto a thick rug. They landed with an 'oomf' and a little cloud of dust.

"Achoo!" Harry's sneeze echoed down the dimly lit corridor they found themselves in.

Malfoy pulled himself up to his knees and looked around. "Where are we?"

Harry pushed himself up as well, shoving some of the long tapestry that was hanging over him away. The corridor stretched to the right and left of them. To the left, sconces revealed it gently curved away and bore another tapestry with a thick rug laid in front of it before it bent out of sight. To the right, it turned into a gallery as the opposite wall fell away to latticed railing and columns that looked out to a large open space and went for quite a distance before it too curved.

Next to him, Malfoy slowly rose and padded quietly over to the railing. The still very red boy turned a little silvery as light from the room beyond brushed him. Looking up, he gasped.

Wanting to see what made the Slytherin adopt such a startled and awed expression, Harry quickly moved to his side and followed his gaze. Harry's jaw dropped.

The room beyond the railing wasn't just a large room. It was a vast Hall, and the enormous ceiling was enchanted like the Great Hall's, only this ceiling didn't show what the sky outside the castle looked like, no, this blasted past the clouds and atmosphere, even the moon, and showed the stars in all their glory. The Milky Way's millions of stars shone with brilliant light, glowing white, yellow, blue, and red, and over it all was a sort of iridescent sheen of heavy magic that danced like the northern lights. It was amazing.

Harry wasn't sure how long they stood and silently stared at the ceiling but gradually the trickling sound of water drifted to his ears, and he started noticing other things about the Hall. Around the edge of the enchanted part of the ceiling was a decorative ring of circles depicting different phases of the moon. One of the circles was glowing. Harry wondered it if was the phase of the moon it was tonight. Below the moons was a two-meter wide space filled with a mosaic made of glass tiles. Lions, badgers, snakes, and eagles were portrayed in a variety of positions as the images moved in slow motion. Under that were the arched openings of the railings and columns of the gallery like the one he and Malfoy were standing at. Beneath their feet, by the foot of every few columns, was the high-relief sculpture of the head of a winged boar that held a dangling sconce from its mouth, with its wings splayed to either side in bas-relief. Lower yet was another set of arches and columns, these open to the floor below them.

Finally allowing his gaze to travel to the center of the Hall, Harry was surprised to find two long columns of wooden benches were lined up to face the part of the Hall that was a solid curve of stone. The solid wall had tapestries hanging to the upper left and right that depicted winged boars. There were also bas-relief carvings on it, particularly one that started in the center of the wall and went down around a mosaic to a raised dais, though Harry couldn't tell what they or the mosaic were of from this angle.

He wasn't able to identify where the sound of trickling water came from, and now that he was listening more closely, he could hear the whistling of wind too, even though the air was still and tranquil. Now that he thought about it, it wasn't just the water and wind he couldn't figure out the location of. He had no idea where he was either. This room wasn't described in _Hogwarts: A History_ as far as he knew, and thanks to the twisting ride down the tunnel-slide, he wasn't sure what part of the castle they were in, although he had a peculiar feeling they were deep within it.

Shifting to ask Malfoy if he knew anything about where they'd found themselves, Harry was suddenly shoved to the floor and had a hand placed over his mouth.

"Shh! Someone's here!" Malfoy whispered, crouched next to him.

Harry nodded his understanding and Malfoy removed his hand. He stared at Malfoy for a moment. His color changing charm must have begun to wear off, because Malfoy's robe was turning a dark burgundy while his skin and hair were turning pink. Harry had to stifle a giggle at the sight he made.

Malfoy caught him looking at him and whispered, "What? Stop looking at me, Potter! Look down there! Something's going on!"

Tearing his eyes from the oddity that was a pink and burgundy Malfoy, Harry peeked between the rails and looked down into the Hall.

A small group of people, bathed in the silver light from the stars above, was gathering between the two columns of benches. They wore old-fashioned robes, the sort that were like floor-length housecoats tied with thin rope and with tighter sleeves, and they had hoods up over full face masks. The robes were violet in color with a light greenish design on the back that worked up over the shoulders, and the masks were also greenish in color. Harry counted seven of them.

"Is this everyone, then?" A female voice said. It came from the girl closest to the dais.

"Of course it's everyone. It's only the second week of school. Do you expect us to have obtained new members already?" A sarcastic male voice shot back from the other end of the group.

"It would be nice if _someone_ picked up a new initiate, or two," she returned.

"Well I'm sorry, but you try finding someone worthy of such secrets amongst my housemates. Most of them don't have slightest clue what _secret_ even means." The answerer was another male, this one stood toward the center of the group. His voice sounded familiar to Harry.

"A cult," Malfoy said lowly from his position next to Harry. "Holy Mother of Merlin, Hogwarts has a cult."

At his words, Harry's imagination went into overdrive. If Hogwarts had a cult, what kind of cult was it? Did they practice Dark Arts? What sort of secrets did they have? Would they kill him if they found him? "We need to get out of here," Harry whispered shakily.

"What are you on about?" Malfoy turned away from the sight below and focused on Harry. "Think about it, Potter. Who knows what kind of stuff a cult at Hogwarts might be up to! They could know stuff about the Founders, or ancient magic, or... who knows what else!" His eyes were glinting again.

Harry felt his courage rise again looking at those eyes. He stopped thinking about the cults his dad and Sirius dealt with as Aurors and started thinking about the stories he'd read, the ones with secret groups that had important missions to protect against evil or guard a legendary artifact. If Malfoy was right... Harry started to rise. "Do you want to get closer?"

Malfoy's hand lashed out and grabbed ahold of his arm, pulling him back down. "What are you doing? You don't just go down there, you bloody Gryffindor!" Malfoy scolded. "You have to watch from a distance first, make sure you know what's going on before risking being discovered, who knows what they'll do to us if they find us otherwise."

"Err, yeah," Harry agreed. He looked back down to the mysterious group and was surprised to see that they'd moved. They were now up on the dais, going through a doorway that had appeared where the mosaic flanked by bas-relief sculpture had been previously. Before the last person, a female, passed through the doorway, she swept her gaze across the Hall. Harry and Malfoy shrunk back to avoid being seen, and seemed to be successful, for she slipped through the doorway without a second glance and the mosaic came back into existence behind her.

"Now do you want to get closer?"

Malfoy sighed and gave him an annoyed look. "Yes, Potter, now we can get closer."

Harry sent him a crooked grin and got up. He hurried down the hallway to the end where he could see two doorways though the columns. Malfoy had to move quickly to catch up.

They passed dark alcoves filled with low tables and cushioned chairs as they went. More tapestries hung on the walls between them, and briefly Harry wondered at how strange it was that this place didn't seem to have any portraits. The main corridors in Hogwarts were filled with them, and even the less trafficked areas, excepting the dungeon, usually had one or two.

His guess about the doorway being the entrance to a staircase proved correct as they approached, and Harry and Malfoy descended to the lower level. The stairs opened up underneath the floor above, a good five meters of covered space between them and the columns and arches ringing the benched area they'd looked at from above. Looking left and right, Harry found the sources of the sounds of trickling water and whistling wind.

Behind the columns and under the overhang, past sets of couches, chairs, and low tables, in the corners, were crystals that glowed. To the right was an emerald green cluster of the gems serving as the centerpiece of a fountain that sent water running over them and into a pool below. To the left was a sapphire blue cluster that shone with a white light. A silvery mist whipped around it like a visible whirlwind, but it didn't stir the draperies hanging on either side of it.

Harry hesitated, not sure which direction he wanted to go, and Malfoy brushed past him, striding confidently toward the center of the room. Harry hastened after him. He didn't want to be left out on anything Malfoy might discover.

Malfoy walked between the columns of benches and didn't glance up at the ceiling once. Harry had to stop and look up. The starry ceiling was even more astounding when you were looking at it from directly below. Harry almost felt like he could float up into it and hover, surrounded by starlight.

"Potter!"

Harry tore his gaze away and dashed to Malfoy's side. The impatient blond was standing on the dais, finally looking like himself again. Behind him was the bas-relief sculpture and glass mosaic Harry hadn't been able to see clearly before. The sculpture was of dragons. The Celtic-styled beasts were entwined with each other and framed the square mosaic. The mosaic also featured dragons. Their variety and colors reminded Harry of the magic he'd done upon being chosen by his wand in Ollivander's. These dragons didn't move like the animals in the mosaic around the room did, but they were in a variety of motionless positions: flying, waving their tails, roaring, breathing fire, and more. However, the dragon in the center was different. Colored the same light green as had been on the robes of the mystery cult, this dragon did move, but as it was asleep, its only movement was its breathing and the occasional flutter of its wings or twitch of its tail.

Harry looked up and down and around the sculpture, curious to see if the mosaic and sculpture had some kind of nameplate somewhere, but all he could find was the sculpture of the Hogwarts crest above it all, with the Latin inscription of its motto: Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon.

"I don't think we should touch the dragon," Harry said softly, and looked down to see Malfoy had stilled with his hand held out towards the dragon in preparation to touch. Harry raised his eyebrows.

Malfoy drew his hand away and straightened his back. "Right, of course, I knew that."

Harry shook his head. "How do you think they got through this? It looks right solid to me." And it did. The brick wall at Kings Cross Station that had been a doorway in disguise had a certain look to it. Magic had sort of made it look like a doorway even though it didn't look like a doorway. Or at least it had to Harry. The mosaic was different, almost as if the magic that made it a doorway was only present at certain times, and at other times the magic closed up like it was sealing a hole in a set of wards.

"Obviously there's some sort of key, or password, or hidden lever, or perhaps a spell." Malfoy was staring at the mosaic with intense eyes. His fingers were tapping against his thigh. "Did you see them do anything before they went though?"

"No." Harry frowned. "They didn't have their wands out, so I don't think it's a spell."

"So a key, password, or hidden lever," Malfoy muttered. "We probably won't be able to figure out a password. We don't know enough about the cult to guess it."

"Mm," Harry agreed. He was focused on the dragon sculptures. They were beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers along them. It was strange though, for some reason he was drawn to the sharp fangs.

"These sculptures... They're so..." Malfoy's voice grew soft, entranced.

The dragons flashed. Suddenly they were crimson, with scales like rubies and blood running down from their fangs and over their wings. They flared out their wings scattering drops of blood, and turned their heads in his and Malfoy's direction. Their eyes shone like polished galleons as they glared at them.

Harry gasped and staggered back a step, but he could not stop staring to run. Finally, he blinked.

The dragons were carvings again.

Harry rubbed at his eyes under his glasses and gawked at the carvings. They had just been real, live dragons. He was sure of it. Or had it been an illusion? Had Malfoy seen it too?

Malfoy, apparently, had not seen what Harry had, for he had stepped even closer to the carvings, and was reaching out to touch them. Panic rushed through Harry, and he was about to cry out for Malfoy to stop but found that he couldn't utter a word. Malfoy's hand fell onto the wing of a carving, and the blond went rigid.

A moment later, Harry found his voice. "M-malfoy?"

Malfoy didn't respond. It was as if he'd been frozen in place.

"Malfoy!" Harry hurried to his side, grabbed the wrist of the hand Malfoy was touching the carving with, and pulled him away.

Instantly, Malfoy started whimpering and wrapped his arms about himself. His eyes were wide and terrified.

"Malfoy..." Harry said, watching as the blond began shaking.

"Th-they said," Malfoy forced out, "they were going to devour us!" His breathing went ragged. "We have to have a Token or they'll devour us!"

"Malfoy!" Harry grabbed ahold of Malfoy's shoulders and looked him in the face. "Look at me!" Malfoy's grey gaze locked with Harry's green. "Calm down. They shouldn't be able to hurt us so long as we don't actually try to get through the entrance. Calm down."

"Yeah, yeah, that's... probably right, Potter." Malfoy took a deep breath and released it with a whoosh of air. "I... They can't hurt us... Not if we don't try to break in..."

Malfoy was still shaking a bit, but Harry thought he seemed to be starting to regain his composure. As for himself, Harry wasn't quite sure what had come over him. Seeing Malfoy panicking had caused his own fear to be pushed aside. That said... He was still afraid of the dragons, of the image he'd seen and the message Malfoy delivered from them. "Did... did you see them too? The dragons, I mean. All bloody and red with golden eyes?"

"I... When I touched it, I saw them, and heard their voices in my head, but..." Malfoy's eyes glinted faintly. "When did you see them?"

Harry hesitated, thrown off by the look sparking back in Malfoy's eyes. "I..."

" _Stupefy_. _Stupefy_."

At the unknown voice, Harry whipped his head to the side and caught sight of two jets of red light speeding towards them and a figure in one of the cultist's robes. Then the spell struck.

 **A/N:** They've found the cult! Or did it find them? Guess you'll have to find out in future chapters, lol. If anyone is wondering about Ron's unpleasantness this chapter: I don't intend to make this a Ron-bashing story. He and Malfoy don't mix and it affects others, which will be addressed gradually. Anyway, I apologize once again for this chapter's lateness, the site's been very finicky about letting me upload/copy-n-paste all week. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was the longest one so far and a tricky one to write! Reviews are much appreciated. Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	9. Y1: The Letter

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Well, I can't think of much to say for the start of this chapter other than that I wish I could have gotten it out earlier, so I just hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to Ern Estine 13624, mizzrazz72, Guest, Kaidyen, and littlesprout for reviewing!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 9:** The Letter

Harry woke up with a headache. Red fabric surrounded him, and he was lying on something soft. He rubbed his head and grimaced when he found a swollen bump. It took a moment for him to make sense of the situation, but once he did, he quickly sat up and pulled back the hangings.

Gryffindor Tower's first year boys' dormitory blurrily filled his vision. Harry searched for his spectacles and found them on his bedside table. He put them on and looked around. The red and gold room was lit with pale morning sunlight coming in through the windows. The hangings were closed on most of the other beds, although Seamus left a corner of his open to let the light in from a small candle placed on his bedside table. The candle was out now, but the soft sounds of sleep still filled the room.

Checking his wristwatch, Harry saw that it was early. The alarm clock they'd set up together wouldn't go off for another hour. This left Harry with plenty of time to wonder how in Merlin's name he'd ended up in his bed when the last thing he remembered was a man in a violet robe and a red spell speeding toward him. He tenderly rubbed his head again. He must have hit it after being knocked out by the spell.

Then he remembered Neville, Ron, and Hermione. Did they get back all right? He slipped out of bed and nearly tripped over his shoes. He paused. Someone must have taken his shoes off, his robe, tie, and belt too, but he was still wearing his socks, trousers, and shirt from yesterday. He wondered uncomfortably who had disrobed him, and then went to Neville and Ron's bedsides.

Peeking through Neville's hangings, Harry found the Boy-Who-Lived fast asleep and perfectly fine. Then he checked on Ron. The redhead was sprawled out across the bed in sleep, and Scabbers, his pet rat, was asleep near his head, probably the only place safe from Ron's nightly flailing. With both of them appearing to be unscathed from the previous night's events, Harry was left at loose ends. He wanted to find out what had happened after they'd separated last night, but he didn't want to wake them. With nothing else to do, Harry collected a few things and left to take a shower.

••••••••

Harry was sitting in the quiet of the Common Room and recording last night's events in his grimoire when Hermione came down from the girls' dormitory. He quickly finished off his sentence and bundled it away. "Hermione," he called out, and she hurried over to him.

"Harry! What happened to you last night? I waited up for you for a while, but when I couldn't hold my eyes open a second longer I went to bed. Did you get caught? You and Malfoy just vanished!" Hermione asked.

"You won't believe what happened! We found..." Harry a heavy magical pressure weighed on him, stopping his tongue before he could say 'a cult.' It felt like someone was pressing their hands down on his head, and the air seemed strangely thick. There was a warning edge to the magic, almost threatening, and Harry couldn't identify where it came from. Harry knew, without a doubt, that though he could tell Hermione what he and Malfoy had seen, this strange magic would punish him for it.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "I've a bit of a headache, and it's distracting."

"Oh, well maybe Madam Pomfrey can give you a potion for it if you stop by the hospital wing before breakfast," Hermione supplied. "Now, you were saying?"

"Uh... Yeah! Right. Well, we sort of found a secret passage when Malfoy bumped into me, and I kind of grabbed him as I fell. We ended up in this room I've never seen before." The magical pressure was getting heavier. Harry's heart sped up. He wondered what would happen if he told her everything. Would the pressure crush him? "We got lost, and I'm not even sure how I ended up back here." The pressure eased significantly, and almost seemed to hum slightly, as if pleased with him. He let out a relieved breath, which garnered him an odd look from Hermione. "Er, what happened with you?"

Hermione huffed in an exasperated manner and plopped down onto the chair across from him. "You won't believe what happened," she started. "Somehow, we took a wrong turn and wound up on the third floor, in the forbidden corridor. Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris were still after us, so Ron and Neville tried to open a door for us to hide behind. It was locked though, so I had to use the unlocking charm from _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One_ to get us in. Once we were inside though..."

She paused and shook her head, causing her hair to fly about wildly before she continued. "They could have gotten us killed! There's a reason Dumbledore said the corridor was forbidden after all. Worse though, they could have gotten us expelled if we'd been caught there! Actually..." Hermione looked pointedly at Harry. "If you hadn't gone to the duel none of it would have ever happened. We wouldn't have nearly been expelled, that cerberus wouldn't have tried to eat us, and we wouldn't have been breaking about a hundred school rules!"

Harry's eyes flew wide, and then narrowed into a glare. "So it's all my fault? Ron's the one who got me in the duel with Malfoy in the first place!"

"Just because Ron got you in the duel didn't mean you had to go to it," Hermione retorted. "And what's with all that nonsense about duels and honor? This isn't the medieval era. Honestly, the rules are in place for a reason. The way you go on anyone would think you were _trying_ to get in trouble!"

Standing up angrily, Harry grabbed his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. "You wouldn't understand," he snarled. Then he stormed out of the Common Room and stomped off down the corridor.

What was her problem? Why'd she have to go and blame him? It had been Ron who'd started it all! If he'd just let him and Malfoy talk yesterday instead of butting his red head in he wouldn't have had a duel or the weird stuff that happened afterwards to deal with. And she didn't even try to understand why it had been important for him to go to the duel. Not to mention that she didn't have to come with them.

Was she just like the muggleborns Malfoy and even Professor Mercier despised? The ones that strode into the wizarding world without care for its past and traditions, like ruddy tourists? Bloody hell, she hadn't even finished telling him what they'd found in that room off the forbidden corridor that she claimed could have killed them!

Harry had himself worked up into a right proper state by the time he made it to the Great Hall. He scowled when he remembered that he'd been planning to go to the hospital wing before breakfast to get a potion for his headache. It seemed too late to do it now.

Not wanting to put up with anybody, Harry took a seat at the end of Gryffindor's table, away from any of his housemates. Thankfully, this was easily accomplished since he was up a little earlier than usual and most of the Gryffindors weren't down from the tower yet. Hermione came down a few minutes later, and Harry pointedly ignored her. Apparently sensing his mood, she sat away from him.

He was grumpily tearing into a sausage when Malfoy arrived. Harry looked up when the blond Slytherin stopped beside his table with Crabbe and Goyle a few paces behind him. Malfoy looked like Harry felt: angry, sulky, and tired.

"Potter," Malfoy asked brusquely, "how did you find yourself this morning?"

"In my bed," Harry grumbled, then locked eyes with Malfoy and said quietly, "with no idea how I got there after..." Harry paused, feeling magical pressure push warningly down upon him again. What _was_ that? He looked around. Maybe the magic didn't want him to talk about it with other people who could overhear around? He didn't think it wouldn't want him to talk to Malfoy about it. Malfoy had been there after all. Harry continued, "After the events of last night. Yourself?"

Malfoy scowled. "The same."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron's voice rang out from the Great Hall's entrance a few feet away.

Harry sighed exasperatedly and ducked his head. Malfoy turned to face Ron, and consequently Neville who was standing next to the redhead, with a sneer in place. "Just thought I'd stop by to remind Potter of my superior spell casting," Malfoy said.

"Yeah? Well... bugger off! This is Gryffindor's table."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "As if the garish colors didn't make that clear enough." Ron started to go red in the face, and Malfoy turned on his heel to swagger over to Slytherin's table. "See you, Potter."

Harry shook his head slowly and focused on Neville. "So, what happened to you last night?"

"You won't believe it, Harry!" Neville took a seat next to him and started telling his tale in a low voice, with Ron interjecting extra details here and there from his seat beside Neville. Harry stared at the pair of them as the story unfolded. If it hadn't been for his own bizarre experience he almost wasn't sure he'd believe them. After all, who would want to keep an enormous three-headed dog (and now Hermione's cerberus comment made sense) in the castle? Even if it were guarding something, wouldn't it be easier to use wards than a live animal?

"I just wonder what it's guarding," Ron put in, "I mean, whatever it is has to be pretty fantastic for it to be guarded by a bloody three-headed dog!"

All the students and faculty were starting to get up and leave for classes, so Harry and the others picked up their stuff and headed out. As they walked Harry pondered what the cerberus could be protecting too. In the background, he could hear Ron trying to convince Neville that they needed to go back and discover what it was guarding. Neville didn't like that idea one bit, and openly said that he was afraid of the three-headed monstrosity. While Ron kept trying to bring Neville around to his plan, Harry glanced out a window they passed and saw Hagrid's hut in the distance.

"That's it!"

Ron and Neville both jumped and faced him. "What?"

Harry lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. "The thing the cerberus is guarding! What if it's what Hagrid said Dumbledore had removed from the vault that was broken into at Gringotts?"

"You think?" Ron said.

Neville thought about it, and then started nodding. "It could be." He looked rather relieved. "That's good then. I don't think anything could get past that... uh... cerberus. Whatever it is it's protecting should be safe."

"I don't know..." Ron said, "I think I could get past it. All you'd have to do is distract it, right?"

Harry huffed, "And how would you do that? It's got three heads! That means six eyes are watching your every move!"

"Blimey, Harry, it wouldn't be that hard!" Ron grinned. "I'd just give it what distracts me. Food!"

Harry and Neville burst out laughing so hard that they had to stop walking.

"Aw, it wasn't that funny," Ron whined, then took off ahead of them with a grin back on his face. "Of course, since I'm not laughing, I won't be the one who's late!"

Checking the time on his watch, Harry saw that they really were going to be late if they didn't hurry. He ran to catch up with Ron, Neville hurrying along behind him.

••••••••

For the rest of the day Harry had trouble focusing on his lessons. Part of it was due to his headache, but that had faded by lunchtime. Another part came from his quarrel with Hermione. They only had one lesson that they had to partner in that day, but it was still very tense between them. Neville noticed and asked about it, and he was firmly on Harry's side once he'd explained, although he suggested trying to better explain to Hermione the significance of a wizards duel in hopes that if she understood then she could apologize and things would go back to normal.

The other reason Harry was having trouble concentrating in class could be pinned fully on his curiosity. He really wondered what it was the cerberus was guarding, and he also wanted to find out more about the cult he and Malfoy discovered and what exactly had happened to them last night. He hadn't forgotten the strange magical pressure that had assaulted him that morning either.

Ideas ranging from the cerberus protecting Merlin's own grimoire to the cult being drug-dealers flew about his mind all day. It was driving him mad, and he really wanted to ask Malfoy if he had experienced the magical pressure like him, but he didn't get the chance. He was still absorbed in the mystery Saturday morning, when a bright red letter was delivered to Neville.

The owl holding the letter landed on the table next to Neville's plate and hunched in on itself, obviously uncomfortable with the letter it was carrying. The Boy-Who-Lived didn't look too comfortable with the letter either. He stared at it with wide eyes and started trembling slightly.

Harry looked at the letter, surprised. He knew what the letter was. The color of the envelope declared that loudly enough, and he'd read about them in a few boys adventure books. Still, he'd never actually seen one before, and he'd rather thought people didn't use them anymore. Apparently he was wrong.

"A Howler," Ron whispered. Suddenly the letter started smoking, and Harry flinched away from it, wondering how bad the yelling was going to be. "Hurry Nev, if you don't open it now it'll be worse!"

With shaking hands, Neville took up the letter and broke the seal. Harry immediately clapped his hands over his ears to help muffle the yelling, but when he didn't hear any, he lowered them and stared at the letter that floated in front of Neville and scolded him.

"Neville Franklin Longbottom," an icy feminine voice emanated from the letter. "What is this I hear about you flying about like a yahoo and hurting yourself? It's only the second week of school, boy. You're clumsy enough as it is. Be more careful or I'll ban you from flying for life!" The letter made a cracking sound and burst into flames. A crumpled pile of ash dropped to the table, right on Neville's toast, and everyone who'd been close enough to see that Neville had received a Howler stared at the remains.

Ron spoke first. "Well, that's the strangest Howler I've ever heard of. It didn't even yell!"

"It was still scary though," Harry said. "Being banned from flying for life?" He shuddered. The very thought of not being allowed to fly was terrifying.

Neville pushed the plate of ashy toast away. "It's not my fault the broom went bonkers," he said a little bitterly, "Not like I want to get on a broom again anyway after that."

Harry started. He'd forgotten about Neville's accident with everything else that had happened. Glancing up at the head table, he found Snape sitting in his usual seat. The dark-haired, swallow-skinned potions master was scowling. Harry accidently locked eyes with him, and he quickly dropped his gaze from the intense obsidian one of his professor, feeling strangely vulnerable under his stare.

There was a hooting sound, and a barn owl landed next to him. It was his father's owl, Squire. Thankful that he had something to focus on other than how uncomfortable Snape was making him feel at the moment, Harry took the letter from Squire and stuck it in his bag for later before lavishing the owl with attention.

"Well, I don't know what you guys are doing," Dean said, "but I'm going to do my assignments first this time so I can spend the rest of the weekend having fun."

"Aww, why'd ya have to bring up work," Seamus groaned. "I don't even want to think about our Transfiguration essay."

"Well I don't either, but I didn't do very well on my last essay, and it might help if we weren't up so late trying to complete it this time," Dean rebutted.

Looking away from Squire, who had his eyes half-lidded and was very relaxed under the gentle strokes of his feathers, Harry volunteered, "I'll come. Do you want to go to the library?"

"Yeah, but..." Dean looked a bit sheepish, "You'll have to show me where it is."

Harry's eyes widened, and he thought about where he and the other Gryffindor first years had all been in the castle. Sure, he'd been all over it last weekend when he explored it with Hermione, but the rest of the group had done something else then, and he couldn't think of a time they'd walked past the library otherwise. "Sure," Harry agreed. "It's pretty cool actually. There's got to be thousands of books."

"Let me guess, you and Granger went there," Ron interrupted.

"Well, yeah," Harry said.

"I'll come too," Neville stated. He shook his head. "I don't want to scramble to finish the assignments again, that was too much."

"Oh, all right then, I guess I'll tag along," Seamus sighed in defeat.

"Where are you guys going?" Lavender asked from a few seats down.

"We're going to the library to do our assignments," Harry answered.

"Then they'll be done and we'll have the rest of the weekend free," Dean added.

Lavender nodded and got the attention of the other female first years, excluding Hermione. After a short discussion Lavender looked back to them and said, "We'll come too."

Ron grumbled a bit more but when Harry sent Squire away and everyone rose together he unhappily conceded defeat and went with them to get their books before the group made their way to the library. Hermione came as well, trailing along a few steps behind the rest of the group. Harry felt a little odd walking in front of the others when they came down from the tower and headed for the library and considered showing them the slide he and Hermione found the last weekend. He walked past the secret slide though, kind of liking the idea that he had a mostly secret route through part of the school.

The tall, dark wooden doors of the library were filled with carvings of the house mascots reading open books settled around two panes of seedy glass that was hard to see though. The group of Gryffindors fell quiet as Harry led them to it, and were silent as Harry opened a door and held it open for them to file in. Hesitantly, Dean stepped forward and the others followed.

Coming in after them, Harry was surprised by how quiet the library was. When he'd come in with Hermione before it had been filled with the muffled scratching of quills on parchment and soft murmured voices of study groups. Now Harry could see only two people in the dim, cavernous space of towering bookshelves made of dark-stained wood. Madam Pince was sitting at her desk located to the left side of the doorway, and an upper-year Hufflepuff student was sitting at one of the tables out in the center of the library, between the main sections of bookcases, with a desk-lap turned on to illuminate his workspace.

"This way," Harry whispered, making his way to the front of the group again. He led them down a couple rows of shelves, around a bend, and to another wide space between shelves that had worktables and a window looking out over the grounds. The sunlight from the window brightened this part of the mostly dark library, and the table here was large enough for all of them to sit at. He lifted the strap of his messenger bag off his shoulder and pulled out a chair. The others did the same and began taking out their assignments.

Opening his bag, Harry found the letter from his father on top of everything else. Deciding to read it after he finished his homework so he wasn't distracted, he tucked it in a side pocket and pulled out the list of questions he was supposed to answer for Charms.

As he worked, Harry quickly decided that there were both good and bad things about doing homework assignments in a large group. It was nice that he could ask the others if they'd found the answer to a certain question and where, but it was hard to focus when he needed to write an essay. It made him glad he'd saved the Transfiguration essay for last.

It was about two hours before noon when he finished his starting paragraph and was trying to think of what to say next that Fay gave a huge sigh and said,

"I can't take this anymore. My brain's going to turn to mush! That's enough homework for now, isn't it?"

Next to her, her friend Sophie frowned and tugged at one of her golden-blonde pigtails. "Well, we only have a little bit left, so..."

"So we can wait until Sunday to finish it!" Ron almost shouted.

"Yeah, I'll say we've gotten far enough! It's time for some fun!" Seamus agreed.

"Well," Dean said, "I was kinda thinking it might be time for a break..."

"I'm definitely ready for a break," Parvati chimed in.

Harry looked down at his Transfiguration essay. It was the last thing he had to do, and then the rest of his weekend would be completely free. "You guys can go ahead if you want, but I think I'm going to finish this first."

"I don't know how you can stand it, Harry, but good luck." Seamus shook his head and started packing his things away hurriedly. Most of the others were quick to follow. Lavender and Parvati started talking about doing their nails together while Fay began lamenting to Sophie about not having her broom to go for a fly. Seamus, Dean, and Ron were ready to leave when Ron noticed Neville didn't have his things packed away.

"Come on, Neville," Ron encouraged, "it's so nice outside! Don't you want to come play a game with us?

"Well," Neville hesitated.

"Yeah, come on!" Dean said, "Seamus has a Fanged Frisbee we can play with!"

"All right," Neville agreed with a small smile and began putting away his things. "See ya later then, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said. Neville gave him a look and glanced between him and Hermione quite obviously. Harry sighed and nodded. Neville gave him an encouraging grin and followed after the other Gryffindor boys.

Then it was just Harry and Hermione.

An awkward silence descended on the worktable, filling the empty spaces between them more heavily than when the seats were occupied. Harry fidgeted, and Hermione kept her gaze locked on the book in front of her. He licked his lips and tried to think of something to say.

"So, uh," Harry began, "I, uh, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Hermione was silent, and though her gaze was still on the book, she was clearly listening to him.

"I... I was mad that you were saying it was my fault for Filch almost catching us, and about the forbidden corridor, because... well... the tradition about honor and dueling is sort of a big deal." He released a heavy breath and looked down at the tabletop. "And I really didn't think about that you wouldn't know about how important it was since you're new to all this. So, I'm sorry about snapping at you... but it still wasn't really my fault."

"Not your fault?" Hermione said, and something in her voice made Harry look at her. She was facing him now, but she was frowning fiercely. "Harry, you broke school rules. When you break the rules, bad things happen. If you hadn't listened to Ron, none of us would have been out there, and we wouldn't have had to deal with getting locked out, or Filch and his cat, or the cerberus in the first place! Even if you'd wanted to follow the tradition, you didn't have to include the rest of us. So it is your fault!"

He gaped at her. "I didn't ask you to come with me! You could have stayed in the Tower! How does that make it my fault?"

"You don't understand!" Hermione turned away, her hair flying over her shoulders, and hurriedly packed away her things. Harry watched her and was bewildered to see a few tears make tracks down her cheeks before she shoved her chair in and rushed from the space.

Left alone in the library, Harry was too baffled to do more than try and puzzle out why Hermione had been crying. He didn't think he'd said anything particularly mean, or even very rude. Was she just crying because he didn't agree with her? That would be so stupid.

He tried to concentrate back on his essay, but only managed to drop a lot of ink splotches on the parchment. Giving up on that task, Harry started putting his things away to he could find the other Gryffindor boys and noticed the letter from his father sticking out of a side pocket. He pulled the letter out and tore open the envelope, wondering what his dad had to say and remembering that he hadn't told him about getting a position on the Quidditch team yet.

Unfolding the parchment, Harry was greeted with the familiar stationary depicting the Potter family crest at the top of the page and his dad's messy scrawl underneath it. He shifted in his chair to get more comfortable and started reading:

 _Harry,_

 _How are you this week? Starting to feel a bit more comfortable there yet? Did you like the watch? I got it from a little place off Diagon Alley called Jasper's Jewelry. I thought you'd like the Snitch. Perfect for a potential Gryffindor Seeker, eh?_

 _Now, I'd like to say that this letter is all about niceties, but I'm afraid I heard a rumor I want to ask you about. You see I heard something about you sneaking off to Diagon Alley. Don't try to deny it, son. I already talked to Moony. I also found Padfoot hiding a report about underage magic that had your name on it._

 _I can't really scold you for sneaking off (I've done too much of it myself) although I will remind you that it is dangerous, Harry. You shouldn't walk about unsupervised places like that. What if something had happened to you? I wouldn't know what to do if you were hurt and I couldn't do anything about it._

 _And I must ask where your mother was during all this. It sounded like you've been to Diagon by yourself more than a few times, and Pads mentioned something about Lily being gone often. Where was she when you snuck off? And where was she those times Pads found you home alone? I know the house elves are there to watch over you and that you are eleven years old now, but is your mum often out visiting friends while you stay home?_

 _You're not in trouble. I promise you're not in trouble. But I would like to know._

 _Write soon, stay safe, learn loads, and have fun._

 _I love you, Bambi._

 _Dad_

Harry stared, fixated, on the letter in his hand. He knew. James knew about the trips to Diagon and that Lily wasn't always where she was supposed to be. Did Lily know that he knew? She'd be furious if she knew that he knew. Harry hadn't received a letter from her though. There'd been no bright red Howler delivered to him, or any other letter. So, she didn't know... right?

The letter wavered in his hand, and Harry realized he was shaking. He dropped the letter to the tabletop and wrapped his arms around himself. James knew. And he wanted an explanation. But Lily...

What was he supposed to do? What should he say? His dad said he wasn't in trouble, but he would be if Lily found out.

Harry felt like he was going to cry, and he didn't want to do it in the middle of the library. Packing up his belongings rapidly, he shoved the letter back into the side pocket of his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left the worktable.

On his way out the library doors he brushed past someone, ignored their shout for him to slow down, and rushed down the corridors.

••••••••

Mermaid's Underlook was quiet aside from the occasional sniffle that Harry emitted. He laid on his back on the soft, shaggy, black rug and looked up at the mosaic of a squid against a midnight sky. The dull greenish light and surprising coziness of the thick rug was relaxing, but couldn't stop his thoughts from circling back to the questions his dad's letter posed.

Frustrated, Harry felt another bout of tears rise in his eyes. He didn't know how he should respond to the letter. There was a way he wanted to respond, however if he did and Lily found out about it he was sure to be punished.

But he was so tired of lying to his dad.

It wasn't right, he knew, how his mother treated him and James. She lied constantly, and married people weren't supposed to lie to each other. They were supposed to trust their secrets with them. And good mothers weren't supposed to threaten to punish people for telling the truth or treat their children coldly, he'd read that much in storybooks and seen it during his trips to Diagon Alley.

A thought occurred to Harry then, and he clutched a fist-full of the shaggy rug. If his dad knew Lily was being a bad mother, would he let her punish him? Harry didn't think so. He was at Hogwarts now, too. Lily might have been able to floo there, but he doubted she would do anything with other people watching her. Still, she could do something when he went home if she found out.

He sighed. The answer to how he was going to respond to his dad's questions about Lily was still out of his reach, but he did need to send back some kind of reply. The letter did have other questions in it too; ones that Harry could actually answer.

Rolling onto his stomach, Harry reached for his bag and tugged it closer. He took out the rather crumpled letter from his dad and smoothed it before setting it to the side. Then he pulled out a quill and his little stationary set. The rug was too soft for him to write on, so he removed his transfiguration book as well and put his parchment on top of it so he'd have a solid surface to write on.

Harry glanced back at the first paragraph of the letter he'd received from his dad. It was a normal paragraph talking about normal things. He could respond to that, at least. Slowly, he started writing.

 _Dad,_

 _This week's been crazy! Just when I start getting used to it here, something new happens, like_

Harry stopped. The mysterious magical pressure was back, warning him against saying anything about the cult. He decided to write something else instead and the pressure vanished.

 _the time Peeves revealed a couple kissing in an alcove and started singing about them up and down the corridor. I have been starting to sleep better though._

 _We had our first real flying lesson on Thursday. Neville had a bit of an accident with his broom, but he's all right. Malfoy was being a git about it, and took off flying when we weren't supposed to, but he had Neville's remembral, so I had to go after him. I didn't get in trouble though, because when Malfoy threw the remembral I caught it and Professor McGonagall saw. She's put me on the Quidditch team. I'm the youngest Seeker in a century!_

 _Hermione and I aren't getting along right now. She thinks something that happened is my fault when it isn't, but she doesn't agree with me._

Harry stopped writing and looked over his work. That was everything he could talk about that avoided his dad's questions about Lily without going into specifics about his classes. He had to write something about his mother though, or he'd just keep asking about her. Harry dipped his quill in ink and continued:

 _Mother does go visit friends a lot. It doesn't bother me. I usually fly, or read, or draw, or visit the horses, or talk to the house elves. Then sometimes I get bored and floo to Diagon Alley. I just stay on Diagon though. I promise. Please don't tell Mother._

 _I love you. Stay safe at work._

 _Harry_

Dropping his quill onto the rug, Harry clutched his trembling hands together and scolded himself for how shaky the letters were on _Please don't tell Mother_. He'd managed to make the other letters come out clearly enough though. Not wanting to look at the words anymore, he barely waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter up and placing it in an envelope. After sealing the envelope with a blot of Quinn's Quick-dry Liquid Wax and writing _James Potter_ on the front of it, Harry quickly packed up his things once more and headed for the owlery, determined to send off the letter before he had second thoughts.

 **A/N:** So, Harry and Hermione aren't getting along right now and there's the letter. Harry has a lot of friendship problems doesn't he? I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I wish I could have gotten it out a bit earlier for you guys, but I was very distracted with a trip to Universal Studios Florida. And yes their Wizarding World of Harry Potter is totally amazing! I was actually almost disappointed with the non-HP parts of the park because Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were so detailed that it felt like you were literally stepping into another world. Anyway, thanks again to my reviewers! You guys are great. In other news, I'm curious as to what you'd think if I changed the summary part I put at the top of each chapter (under the disclaimer stuff) to reflect the events in each of the school years? As usual, reviews are much appreciated! Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	10. Y1: Nimbus 2000

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Sorry I didn't post at all last month! Life is busy right now. I was happy to get several reviews for chapter 9 though, so a very special thanks to MSupernatural, HoneyBear84, Ern Estine 13624, littlesprout, and iamladyliberty! Also, thanks to all my readers. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 10:** Nimbus 2000

Harry sat anxiously at the breakfast table Sunday morning, wondering if he'd get a reply from his dad. The owls flew in, the owls flew out, and there was no mail for him. He wasn't sure if that should make him more nervous or not.

Quietly picking at his food while his roommates chatted, he didn't notice someone was approaching him until their hand landed on his shoulder and he almost jumped out of his seat.

"Whoa, steady there, Harry," said Oliver Wood.

Harry gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, you surprised me."

"Yes, well, do try to pay attention to your surroundings when we're on the pitch, all right? Here," Wood held out a worn, red leather bound book with faded gold lettering that read: _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "I want you to read this before our first practice on Friday. I know you probably already know some of it, but if you're going to play Quidditch, you have to really _know_ Quidditch," Wood said exuberantly. "Personally, I know the thing by heart."

"Oh," Harry said, taking the book, "Okay. Thanks."

"No problem! I'll see you Friday then." Wood gave Harry's shoulder a friendly squeeze and left whistling a jaunty tune.

Harry looked down at the book he was left with. It had Property of Oliver Wood penned inside the cover and was written by someone named Kennilworthy Whisp. Flipping to the table of contents, he saw that it was about the history of Quidditch as well as the rules and such. He though he knew most of the stuff about the rules, but he'd never read about the history of the sport before.

Turning to the first page, Harry began to read.

••••••••

 _Quidditch Through the Ages_ turned out to be the perfect distraction for Harry that week. His dad still hadn't written back to him Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, but every time he started to feel anxious about it he could bury himself in the Quidditch book and forget all about the matter. By Thursday he'd read it three times.

Friday morning he went down to breakfast with the red book in hand, fully determined not to think about his dad's lack of reply. He was in the midst of a chapter talking about Snidget-hunting and the invention of the Golden Snitch and thinking about how the little Golden Snidgets reminded him of Mercier's Jabberknolls and the way the blue birds were sometimes hunted for their feathers, when a trio of owls flew in carrying a large package with the rest of the post. Almost every eye in the Hall found its way to the package and the birds carrying it, conversations stopped, and everyone waited to see whom the package would go to and what was inside.

Harry too was watching the owls' progress. He realized they were flying toward the Gryffindors and looked up and down his table to see if anyone seemed to be expecting the package. Then a thunk came from in front of him. He blinked at the long package lying across his plate of eggs as well as Neville's porridge and Dean's biscuit with bacon, eggs, sausage, and cheese stacked inside. No one seemed to mind that their breakfast was being assaulted though; they were too curious about the package to care.

"What is it, Harry?" Dean asked, poking the wrapping with one finger.

"I don't know..." The package was cylindrical and seemed to be wrapped in several layers of brown paper. It was impossible to tell what it was just by looking at it.

"Oh, there's a letter too, here," Neville handed over a letter that had been attached to the part of the package lying in his breakfast.

Harry took it, wiped off the porridge stuck to it, and flipped it over. He instantly recognized the handwriting on the envelope as belonging to his dad. Nervously, he opened it, worrying about what it would say about his mother and curious about what the package was.

 _Harry,_

 _Ta-dah!_

 _It's your present for becoming Gryffindor Seeker, a Nimbus 2000! As for the rule about first years not being allowed brooms, don't worry. I wrote Professor McGonagall and she okayed it. I'm really proud of you, son. You should have seen Sirius when I told him. He turned into Padfoot and ran around the office with his tail wagging so fast he knocked over all his paperwork, he was so excited. You can count on us both coming to see your first match. But remember, just because you have a fast broom doesn't mean you should go wild with it. Be careful._

 _I'm sorry about your mum being gone a lot. I suppose I've been gone a rather lot too with work being as crazy as it is. Maybe you can also think of the broom as an apology from me?_

 _Anyway, I'll see you at the match. So practice hard, but don't forget to do your homework!_

 _Love,_

 _Dad_

Harry gaped at the letter. It hadn't said much about his mother, but that didn't really matter because his dad sent him a Nimbus Two Thousand. A Nimbus Two Thousand! It was the best racing broom on the market! He looked up to find most of the table staring at him. Not knowing what to say, he quickly began unwrapping the parcel, tearing the paper wherever it refused to easily come undone. A short minute later, the Nimbus was lying there on the table, in full view of the Great Hall.

Awestruck, Harry stared at the broom, taking in the carefully clipped brush and sleekly polished handle with _Nimbus 2000_ on the upper grip in gold lettering. Suddenly Oliver Wood was at his side. The older boy wore a deliriously happy smile and muttered something under his breath. Then he fainted but was caught by the group that had gathered behind him.

Before he realized what was happening, Harry found himself being jostled about by an increasingly large crowd of Gryffindors all trying to get a look at the new broom. With everyone leaning over and around him to get a look at the broom he felt trapped and his breathing became tight gasps. He closed his eyes to try and escape the sensation, but it didn't seem to be any use.

"Enough!" someone said loudly. "I said stop that! You're all acting like toddlers! Go back to your seats! It's just a broomstick!"

Harry felt the pressure of people around him ease and opened his eyes. Looking up, he found Percy standing near him, flashing his Prefect's badge like it was a shield to ward off the Quidditch-crazed mass of Gryffindors.

"It's not just any broomstick!" Wood argued. Momentarily, Harry wondered when the Quidditch Captain had woken up, and why he'd fainted in the first place. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand!"

"Yes, I know what it is," Percy returned, "and I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to pant over it at practice, but not here!"

A chuckle rose from some of the older students and people started returning to their seats, though they still spoke avidly about the broomstick. Percy remained standing, watching them obey his will with a proud expression. Harry relaxed a little, but he still felt uncomfortable after being surrounded. As the Gryffindors drifted away and settled down, he began wrapping the broom up again, told his roommates he was going to take it to the Tower, grabbed his bag, and quickly hurried toward the exit.

"Potter!"

Startled out of his thoughts of escaping the Great Hall, Harry turned and saw Malfoy approaching him. Malfoy walked right up to him and grabbed the end of the broomstick's handle, which was sticking out of the torn wrapping, and scowled.

"It really is a Nimbus then," the blond growled, and while he was holding it, Harry saw him shove a piece of parchment in amongst the wrapping. He looked away from the broomstick and pushed it towards Harry with a smirk in place. "You do know first years aren't allowed to have brooms," he said loudly. People turned to look at them, seeming to expect a confrontation.

Harry was trying to think of something witty to say in return about how his father had gotten it cleared with McGonagall when Professor Flitwick walked up.

"Now, now, boys," the diminutive professor said, "let's not have one of those infamous Slytherin and Gryffindor arguments, all right? Mr. Potter's broom is an exception due to his placement on his House Team." Flitwick raised an eyebrow. "Something I believe he has you to thank for, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy's entire face turned a dusty pink color that reminded Harry of when he'd been hit with the color changing charm. After stifling a giggle at the thought, he said, "Yeah, Malfoy, thanks. I never would have made it onto the team without you."

The Slytherin's face grew redder, and his grey eyes narrowed. Behind himself, Harry heard Ron and Seamus's laughs. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his roommates had followed him.

"You're welcome, Potter," Malfoy bit out, then spun on his heel and headed toward his table with more laughter following him.

"Well, you best run along now boys," Professor Flitwick said, clearly hiding a grin. "We don't want Mr. Wood over there deciding this broom needs a test flight in the middle of the Great Hall."

Harry looked back at Gryffindor table and, sure enough, Wood was staring longingly after them. He got the feeling the only reason Wood wasn't pestering him about the broom right then was because the Quidditch Captain's friends seemed to have stuck him to the bench somehow.

"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed, and quickly exited the Hall with his roomates following.

Once they were back in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, Neville, Ron, Dean, and Seamus returned to fawning over the broom and reading aloud form the pamphlet that came with it which had been hidden in the folds of wrapping earlier. While they were distracted, Harry removed the piece of parchment Malfoy had shoved into the wrapping. In neat letters it read:

 _We need to discuss the events of a week ago. Meet me at the owlery on Saturday after breakfast._

Harry immediately thought of the mysterious magical pressure that didn't seem to want him to talk about what he'd seen that night a week ago, and wondered if he and Malfoy could talk about it. What about it would Malfoy want to discuss? The magical pressure? Had he learned something about the cult itself? Harry had been so worried about the letter from his dad that he'd almost forgotten about the cult and hadn't tried to uncover any information on them himself. He hoped Malfoy knew something.

A sudden yelp of "We're going to be late!" from Dean broke Harry from his thoughts, and seconds later the boys were all hurrying out of the Tower and down to their first class, rushing to get there in time.

••••••••

Charms was one of Harry's favorite subjects so far. Despite this, he was having a lot of trouble focusing as the clock ticked on, slowly creeping closer and closer to seven, when he was to meet Oliver Wood for his first Quidditch practice. It wasn't going to be his first official practice. He wouldn't get to have a practice with the whole team until Monday morning. Tonight's practice was more about Wood figuring out what level his skills were at than anything, he'd been told. He was still excited even though it wasn't the official practice though, because tonight he'd get to fly his Nimbus Two Thousand for the first time.

His daydreams about flying made it incredibly difficult to focus on learning the unlocking charm. Hermione, of course, had gotten it right immediately and won Gryffindor House five points. Professor Flitwick told her to try the locking charm on it, and after she got that too and earned five more points he removed the simple lock from the top of Hermione's desk and given her a slightly more complicated one to work with. As the lesson progressed, the professor continued to watch the class from his desk, floating the students different locks that were harder to unlock and relock after they'd mastered their previous one.

Most of the class was on lock three and stuck there, Hermione was on to lock four, but Harry and Neville were still on lock two when class ended. Harry thought he probably should have felt bad that he hadn't done his best work with the locks, but he was honestly too excited about flying to care that he hadn't done better. He was the first one to have this things packed away and the first one out the door.

Harry hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, barreling into the Common Room and rushing up the stairs to retrieve his broomstick. Arriving in his room, he dumped his messenger bag on his bed and changed out of his school uniform before pulling on a long-sleeved tunic and trousers that he wouldn't mind getting dirty and damaged along with a pair of boots. Then he took the day's textbooks out of his bag, slung it over his shoulder, grabbed his broom, and rushed down to the Quiddtich pitch, ignoring everyone he passed in favor of getting there quickly.

As soon as he was on the lawn, the pitch in sight and no one else around, Harry excitedly mounted the Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. He yelped with joy at the broom's speed, pushing it as fast as he could toward the pitch. The broom carried him so swiftly that he wondered if he was feeling how birds did, or dragons, when they were shooting through the sky with intent to catch their prey.

When he reached the pitch he flew over the stands and made a lap around the interior, landing only long enough to put his bag down by the opening he assumed led to the Gryffindor locker rooms. Then he was back in the air again. He tried out a few of the moves Sirius had shown him, but mostly he just flew straight and enjoyed the wind blasting past him and the feeling of freedom that came with flight.

After a while a movement down on the ground caught his eye, and he flew to it, grinning widely as he saw Wood, who was still dressed in his school uniform, floating a heavy-looking chest onto the pitch and carrying a broom. He landed a short distance away from the Quidditch Captain and ran up to him. Breathless with excitement he asked, "Ready to practice?"

"Here, eat this first," Wood said, pushing a cloth napkin with something wrapped in it into his hands. "You skipped the start of dinner, and we won't be done 'til after eight. Meanwhile, let me have a look at that Nimbus."

Harry gave a short laugh and handed the broom over. While Wood reverently ran his hands over the broomstick and examined it with an awestruck expression, Harry unwrapped the napkin and uncovered a still-warm Cornish pasty. He took a bite of the D-shaped pastry. It had beef and other delicious things inside. He happily devoured the savory meat-pie-like pastry and watched as Wood took the broom for a 'practice lap' to 'make sure it was safe'. As amused as Harry was by his captain's antics, he rather wished the older boy wasn't so fixated on his broom. He'd like to have it back so that they could start the practice.

Wood returned the broom a few minutes later and opened the chest. "Now," Wood said as Harry joined him by it, "You've read the book?"

"Yes," Harry said, "three times, almost four."

"Good." Wood grinned. "And if I remember correctly you've been following Quidditch and flying for some years now, have played Seeker's games with a practice Snitch, and have played some of the other positions with your father and godfather."

Harry nodded.

"Good, good. Then I don't have to go through the entire explanation, but I'm still going to give you a quick rundown of our team." Wood gestured toward the balls in the chest. "These are our practice balls. Handling the Quaffle will be our Chasers, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. Yours truly is Keeper. Our Beaters, Fred and George Weasley, will handle the two Bludgers that keep trying to escape their chains. Then..." Wood opened a small compartment that looked like the Hogwarts crest and revealed a small golden ball. "The Golden Snitch," he said, holding it up and allowing the silvery wings to expand from the ball, "is for you, our Seeker, who should catch the ball at every game to end the game and earn us one hundred and fifty points."

Harry gulped. He was very excited to get to play on the House Team, but he also realized that it was an important position to hold. The Snitch was worth a lot of points, and was usually the reason a team won a game. He'd have to be serious about playing during practices and games.

Wood put the Snitch back in its place in the chest and pulled out a bag of Snitch-sized white balls from another compartment on the chest's side. "Since this practice is more of an introduction and me figuring out where you're at right now we won't use the Snitch. Instead we'll start with basics." He held up the bag of balls. "Tonight, you're going to catch golf balls. Then, when we finish, I'll set you up with a set of training clothes and show you your locker. You ready?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and mounted his broom once more.

••••••••

Saturday morning at the end of breakfast Harry finished telling his roommates about his practice with Wood the night before and said that he was going to the owlery to send a letter to his dad thanking him for the Nimbus Two Thousand and would catch up with them later. While his roommates went back to the common room to figure out what they wanted to do with their weekend, Harry walked in the direction of the owlery. He hadn't forgotten his meeting with Malfoy, although it had been a near thing. He probably would have forgotten if the note hadn't fallen out of his pocket that morning because he was so busy thinking about what his first official Quidditch practice with the Gryffindor team would be like come Monday morning. Last night's practice seemed to be successful, and he was excited to practice with the team.

As he walked, he wondered what Malfoy would have done if Harry had forgotten about the meeting. He didn't imagine the Slytherin would wait around long after their appointed meeting time, but he also didn't think the blond would be very forgiving if Harry didn't show up. Malfoy would probably find the first opportunity to confront him, quite angrily, about it.

The owlery, Harry thought, was in a rather more distant location than where he would have put it. It felt detached from the rest of the castle, and he wondered if the owls didn't feel lonely because of it. He climbed the narrow steps to the tower door and went inside.

Malfoy was already there, petting an eagle owl and giving it a letter to carry. As if sensing his presence, Hedwig flew down and perched next to the eagle owl, startling Malfoy and causing him to turn toward the door.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted.

"Malfoy," Harry returned. He walked over to his owl, careful of where he stepped on the rather messy floor. "What did you want to talk about?"

Making an elegant hand gesture, Malfoy sent his owl away, and it flew off with his letter. "About the events of last week... Do you find yourself having trouble telling anyone about what we saw?"

Harry reached Hedwig and started petting her. "Yeah, when I tried to tell Hermione about the cult a magical pressure pushed down on me. I got the feeling it would... punish me if I told her anything, so I just said we ended up somewhere I'd never been and that we got lost. The magic eased up then. And it seemed almost happy. When I tried to write about it in a letter to my dad it wouldn't let me either. It lets me write about it if I don't intend to show anyone it though."

"Granger? Why would you want to tell her? She's a muggleborn. What would she understand about it?" Malfoy asked disapprovingly.

Rolling his eyes, Harry said, "Because she was the first person I saw the next morning and asked about what happened to us. Who did you try to tell?"

Malfoy scowled. "I tried to tell Crabbe and Goyle about it, but the magical pressure showed up and I ended up sounding just as stupid as them."

Harry frowned. "Why do you hang out with them? You don't seem to be friends, but they go almost everywhere you do." It was an odd thing Harry had noticed about the two bulky Slytherin boys. It didn't matter if they were walking to the Great Hall or going to class, the boys were almost always a few steps behind the blond.

"I don't know," Malfoy sighed. "My father knows their fathers, and I'd see them sometimes when Mother would hold a party, but otherwise I don't know them that well. I bet their parents told them to stay near me. That doesn't matter though." Malfoy's eyes glinted. "I want to know why we can't talk to other people about what we saw, but you said cult, and I said cult, and I don't feel any magical pressure at all."

"I assumed it was because we were both there, and there are only owls around to overhear us, so there's no reason for the magic not to allow us to talk to each other about it." Harry shrugged. "What I want to know is where the magic is coming from. Did the cultist who knocked us out put some kind of spell on us to keep us from telling anyone?"

"I wonder how we ended up back in our rooms. Whoever it is clearly has access to both Gryffindor and Slytherin's dorms."

He stopped petting Hedwig and turned more fully toward Malfoy. "Maybe the cult has people from both Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Why would Gryffindors and Slytherins work together? Our houses hate each other!" Malfoy scoffed.

"Well we're working together, aren't we?"

"That's different. We have extenuating circumstances," Malfoy pronounced carefully. "And I don't have to work with you, I only asked you here so that I could find out if the magic was affecting you too."

Harry frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Well it would make a difference if only one of us was affected."

"So what are we going to do?" Harry sighed. "We don't know how to get back to that strange Hall, and it could be bad if we run into the cult again, but I don't know how else we'll figure out what's happening."

"We aren't going to do anything," Malfoy said. "Our houses hate each other, remember? We'll both have to look separately or they'll get suspicious."

"Oh." Harry remembered Ron's and a few other Gryffindors' comments about Slytherins and nodded. "You're right."

"Well, Potter, I'll be leaving now. See you around." The blond headed for the door.

"Yeah. See ya. I guess." Harry said, and watched as Malfoy opened the door. "Oh, Malfoy!"

The blond paused and looked back at him. "What?"

Harry looked down. "Uh, it really is because of you that I'm on the Quidditch team and got the Nimbus, so... Thanks, really."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome, I suppose," Malfoy muttered. "Goodbye, Potter." He left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Harry turned back to Hedwig looked into the bird's bright yellow eyes. "You didn't hear any of that about a cult and stuff, all right?"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and shifted on her perch.

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Here, can you deliver this to my dad?" She took the letter he held out to her, flapped her wings, and flew out one of the open windows. His eyes followed her as she soared for a little bit, then she banked on the breeze and went out of sight.

Careful of the mess on the floor, Harry picked his way back to the door and left the owlery. He hurried back to Gryffindor Tower thinking of the mysterious cult and decided he needed to come up with a plan for finding out more about it. In the meantime, he wanted to catch up with his roommates and have some fun.

••••••••

Harry wondered how he ever could have thought that Quidditch practice would be easy. His one-on-one practice with Wood was nothing compared to real practice with the team.

Thunder rumbled distantly in the cloud-covered sky, and a steady downpour fell, thoroughly dowsing and chilling them. Harry almost felt like he was underwater. The rain had soaked through his training clothes. The yellow and red t-shirt clung to his skin despite being under the red, lightweight outer-robe that was charmed to repel water. His gray cotton joggers hadn't stood a chance; they were heavy with the water they absorbed, and threatened to slide right off his hips if he didn't tie the strings in the waistband tighter. The leather of his arm bracers, gloves, and greaves was also charmed to repel water, but the rain slipped in between his skin and the leather anyway. Even his shoes and socks were sopping, and his feet slid dangerously on the wet grass every time he landed and ran sprints with the others at Wood's command.

By the time Wood finally called them into the Gryffindor Quidditch Quarters Harry's breath came in gasps, his legs felt like they were going to give out on him, and the Snitch hadn't even been released. The Quaffle and Bludgers hadn't been brought out either, for that matter. Wood had decided to fully focus practice on working them physically to 'get you back in shape and increase your stamina' before they would work on technique.

Inside, the Quarters were delightfully warm despite the cloth wall coverings, but the warmth made Harry all the more aware of how waterlogged he was. He desperately wanted to go to the boys' locker room and strip off his gear, but Wood directed the group to sit down in the room outside the girls' and boys' locker rooms where there was a large chalkboard, a small table, and several benches. Wood called the space the Strategy Room, and the moment everyone had squelched onto a bench he took off with a speech.

"All right, lads!" Wood clapped his hands together and everyone raised their heads to look at him.

"And ladies!" Spinnet broke in, her brown eyes determined.

"Right. Lads and ladies," Wood corrected. "That was a decent first practice. Not the best, but decent. It seems most of you haven't slacked off this summer quite as much as you did the last time. And as for our new Seeker..." He smiled at Harry. "You did a bang-up job of keeping up! I think we'll be able to push forward following the schedule that I made this summer."

There was a groan from one of the girls behind him, and Harry turned to see Johnson shaking her head, her black hair dripping water as she did. "Another schedule? Is this one full of crazy stuff from that summer camp too?"

Wood's brows furrowed, and he looked sternly at her. "Yes, and it's not crazy. IYQC is at the forefront of training techniques and churns out brilliant players that go on to play for some of the best teams in the world."

"It churns them out all right," George started, pulling off his shoes and socks.

"Into a sopping glop of Quidditch potential," Fred ended. He wrung one of his socks out, and water fell to the floor.

"Gross," Bell muttered from where she was squeezing water out of her tangled brown hair.

"Exactly!" Wood shouted. "You come out of IYQC absolutely saturated with potential from all you've learned there! Well, unless you're not cut out for it, of course."

The girls sighed.

Harry was curious. "What's the-" There were suddenly two hands covering his mouth and Fred and George were sitting next to him.

"Don't ask," they said.

Wood's eyes were alight. Clearly he'd heard the first part of Harry's question and was more than ready to answer. He opened his mouth, but was quickly cut off by a collective groan from the rest of the team. Wood frowned at them. "Fine, I won't tell you. I'll just tell Harry." He looked down at his wristwatch. "Later. Or we'll miss breakfast. Go on lads," he paused when Bell gave him a glare this time, "and ladies, go get changed, shower, whatever, and head back to the castle. I'll get you the more detailed schedules by the end of the week, and don't forget we have practice Wednesday morning!"

The girls quickly headed to their locker room, and Harry picked up his broom and followed Fred and George to the boys' room with Wood trailing along behind. The boys' locker room was divided into two sections. The first one they walked into was the locker portion. It had a long wooden bench standing in the middle of it. Opposite the door, a large storage locker for extra gear and a hamper for them to throw soiled clothing in for the house elves to clean stood. To the left was a wooden dividing wall with an opening that led to the showers, sinks, and the room's single toilet. To the right was a row of tall, red-painted lockers. There were enough lockers for two Quidditch teams, the regular and the reserve, and each locker was marked by the player's position, but only four were currently being used.

Harry went to the regular team locker labeled 'Seeker' and pressed his hand against the metal. His hand tingled as the magic recognized him from when Wood had registered him as Seeker during their practice Friday, then the door unlatched with a click. Harry opened it up and withdrew his messenger bag and school uniform, setting them on the bench, and put his Nimbus inside. He tried to look anywhere but at his teammates as they shucked off their wet training clothes and tossed them in the hamper, completely unembarrassed to be almost naked in front of each other. George must have noticed his hesitation to undress in front of the older boys, because Harry suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see the taller boy giving him a gentle smile as Fred and Wood walked to the showers.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," George said, "we won't judge you." Then he walked to the showers with the others.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was being silly. It wasn't like they were naked. They had their pants on. He did wonder how they went from towel-wrapped to new pants without anyone seeing them after the shower though. In the dormitory the bed hangings sort of blocked each person's view into the other's changing area, but there weren't any curtain-like dividers here. Perhaps they brought their new pants to the shower with them and put them somewhere they wouldn't get wet? He really should have paid more attention to what the older boys were doing and had brought with them to the showers. He took another deep breath. It was going to be awkward, but he really would like to take a shower before heading back up to the castle. The rain had been really cold, and the shower would be warm. Harry exhaled slowly then stripped down to his pants.

He deposited his wet training clothes in the hamper, took his pair of dry pants and the new bar of soap that was in his locker with him, and went to the showers. The light gray-tiled half of the locker room contained one toilet stall in the corner with a row of sinks opposite it. The rest of the tiled area was taken up by shower stalls made of wood. Standing in the open space in the center was a metal rack holding rolled-up white towels with a stripe of red and gold near the edge.

The sound of falling water and the twins' poor singing of a Celestina Warbeck song echoed loudly in the space. Quickly, Harry retrieved one of the towels and hurried over to one of the empty stalls. He was glad to find a couple of hooks on the inside that he could hang his towel and pants on without them getting wet.

Harry finished undressing then turned on the water to a heated setting and washed. After his short but warming shower, Harry toweled off and put his dry pants on. He hung the towel over his shoulders so he could use it on his hair a bit more and left the shower, taking the soap with him and tossing his wet pants in the hamper as he made his way back to his locker. Wood and the twins were already at their lockers and partially dressed in their school uniforms. Harry quickly joined them in dressing and was pleased when nothing awkward happened. It seemed his fears were silly after all.

Wood was finished dressing first, and left with a cheery, "See you at breakfast, lads!"

Once he was gone, Fred and George spoke. "How can he be so cheery?"

"It's the morning! Early morning!"

"And after a practice in the rain!"

They gave a sigh simultaneously.

Harry laughed and slung his bag over his shoulder. "I don't know, but he's got the right idea. It's time for breakfast!"

The twins chuckled and left with him, pulling their hoods up and running to the castle through rain that had slowed to a drizzle.

 **A/N:** Perhaps not the reaction from James you were expecting? Thought Harry and Draco were going to investigate more together? Don't worry, I play the long game. I love the idea of Quidditch, so you can expect it to make periodic appearances. Although I don't think there'll be more awkward (for Harry anyway) locker room scenes. I just thought it would help set up more of the team dynamic. They're quite considerate of their youngest teammate. As usual, reviews are much appreciated! Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	11. Y1: Surprise Appearances

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** It took me ages to get this chapter out (thanks life) but here it is! Thank you to reviewers MSupernatural, Ern Estine 13624, HoneyBear84, and Kaidyen! I always love hearing from you, even if it takes me a while to write back sometimes. Also, thanks to my other readers! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 11:** Surprise Appearances

It was finally Saturday, and Harry didn't want to get out of bed. He'd had Quidditch practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, and rather than feeling better after each practice he just felt more sore. Wood's schedule was very demanding. Much more demanding than Mercier's had been when he started teaching him how to fight with a dagger. That was like play compared to Quidditch.

Harry released a sigh and buried his face into his pillow. That was another thing. He'd fallen behind on his practice with his dagger. He still needed to find someplace to hold the practice sessions though.

He did not want to get up. His legs ached, his back was tight, and he didn't even want to try lifting his arms. Wood would tell him to stretch out the pain, and the girls would tell him a hot shower would help. Both were good ideas. But both also meant he had to get out of the bed first.

Neville's voice drifted through his hangings. "Harry? Harry, are you awake?"

"Yes," Harry answered, turning his head so the pillow wouldn't swallow the word.

"Are you coming to breakfast? We're all going down soon. The others are waiting in the Common Room."

Harry sighed. "I suppose." He turned over and stared at the top of his four-poster. "Hey, Neville?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Can you help me get up?"

The hangings were pulled back to show Neville's concerned, if slightly blurry, face. "What's wrong?"

Harry raised his hands and whimpered. "My muscles hurt."

Neville frowned but took Harry's hands and pulled him up into a sitting position. Harry held back a gasp at the pain the movement caused, but he must not have succeeded. Neville's frown deepened. "You don't think they're being to hard on you at practice, do you? I mean... you shouldn't normally feel this bad, right?"

Harry shook his head. "It'll get better. The others are doing just as much as I am, I'm just not as strong as they are yet, I guess."

"Well, all right... but you should probably stretch and take a hot shower right? You said that helps some."

"Yeah, maybe you should go on without me. I'll probably fall down the stairs before I even get to breakfast if I don't at least stretch out first," Harry said with a smile.

Neville continued to frown like he wanted to stay, but his stomach growled. "Okay, I guess I'll see you later then."

"See ya later."

The door closed behind Neville with a snick, and Harry was left to force himself out of bed and into the shower. He still didn't really want to get out of bed though, so he decided to compromise by doing some of his stretches in bed and then forcing himself up and into the shower. His muscles burned in an oddly pleasant way while he was stretching, and by the time he was mostly finished he was eager to throw himself under some hot water. By the time he managed to pull himself from the shower the skin of his fingers had wrinkled from the moisture and the mirrors were fogged up.

He dried and dressed in his typical weekend clothes of tunic, trousers, and leather boots, then threw his school outer-robe over the top. He checked his wristwatch for the time and saw that breakfast would be over by the time he got to the Great Hall.

Looking over at his bag, Harry was reminded of the dagger within again. Deciding he couldn't put it off any longer, he slung the bag over his shoulder and set off to find somewhere to train.

••••••••

Harry stared at the huge wooden doors in one of Hogwarts's arch-ceilinged attic spaces. They hadn't changed since he'd been there last, still worn smooth, still bearing the stone symbol of a shield and swords, and still locked. He could have found a hidden or seldom used room to practice in, but once the memory of these doors surfaced he'd been too curious not to try and get in again.

This time, he had a better plan than trying to pick the lock with his dagger.

Standing at the top of the steps that led to the doors, Harry pulled his wand from its holster and pointed it at the keyhole. He took a deep breath and tried to remember everything he'd learned in Charms about the unlocking charm. Trying to be as precise as possible, he moved his wand in a squiggle similar to a backwards S while saying, " _Alohomora_."

The lock made a soft click sound and then a sharper snick as the magic managed to move one of the lock's pins but not all of them, and the pin fell back into place as the magic faded.

Harry sighed and tried again. And again. And again. Scowling, he thought he really should have paid more attention in class.

He cast the spell another time and watched as his wand produced a thick mist that floated into the lock. The sensation of it feeling the lock out, pushing at pins and holding them in place echoed back to him along his arm, and he tried to keep the visualization of the lock releasing in his mind. He gasped when he felt the last of the pins were held in place, and lost his hold on the magic. The pins snicked back into their locked position, and Harry groaned.

So, close! He'd been so close! All he'd had to do was get his magic to turn it like a key and the door would have unlocked. He leaned his head against the door and scolded himself for releasing the magic early.

Determined to get it this time, Harry stood up straight and aimed his wand at the lock. He tried to find the same calm intent he'd had the last time, focused a little harder, and whispered, " _Alohomora_." He felt the pins give and imagined his magic turning like a key before willing it to do so. There was a groan as the lock gave, and then the great doors opened outwards. Grinning at his success, Harry took a few steps down the little staircase to avoid being struck by the doors, and scooped his bag up from the floor. The room beyond the doors was dark, so Harry muttered a quick ' _Lumos_ ' before going inside.

Fire burst into being the instant he set foot in the room. Its light flickered for a moment then shone strongly from torches and candles, illuminating a rectangular room with thick support beams wide enough for a person to walk on crossing the space three meters up. The inside of the roof could be seen between the gaps the beams left, and the occasional simple, circular chandelier holding lit candles hung from the beams. The long walls to either side were wooden and rose only high enough to connect with the slant of the arching ceiling and the support beams. Plaques of thin stone adorned them, and had script Harry was too far away to read etched into them. Low tables, couches, and chairs were grouped in circles to the left and right. Opposite him was another wall, which didn't rise all the way to the pointed ceiling but stopped at the beams and had a door built into it. Harry had a feeling that it was locked.

" _Nox_ ," Harry said, putting out the light he no longer needed and wandering further into the room. He noticed a design set in the center of the floor and moved toward it. It was the same shield and swords emblem as was outside the room, but this time it was surrounded by a ring of runes. It looked interesting, but he couldn't read the runes, so he continued on to the door.

The gray, stone door rose in a pointed arch and was covered with etchings of blades of various styles and lengths. Two brass rings served as door pulls, and beneath the one on the right-hand side was a small keyhole. Harry put his wand in its holster, gripped a ring with each hand, and pulled. The door didn't open, so he tried pulling harder, but it still wouldn't open. He drew his wand again and cast the unlocking charm at the keyhole, focusing intently. The thick mist breezed toward the lock, only to break against it like a wave. The door flashed a startling orange color before the spell dissipated. Frowning now, Harry reached out to touch the door with his left hand. The etched stone was rough under his palm, and he tried not to let it distract him as he concentrated on the door and felt for any magic. The orange light appeared again, and this time it lingered and formed a smooth, glass-like surface over the door that shone under the candlelight and reflected the things opposite it. Harry saw himself in it, ruffle-haired and bespectacled. Then he removed his hand and stopped reaching out with his magic. The orange magic faded away again.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The door was locked, clearly, and the orange magic meant that it was magically locked. He would probably need the door's key to enter the space beyond it. For now, he was unable to go any further. He could still explore the room he'd uncovered so far though. Harry moved to look at the stone plaques on the walls, and saw someone at the room's entrance from the corner of his eye. He immediately turned to see who it was and stilled. Prefect Percy Weasley was standing in the open doorway, watching him with analytical blue eyes.

When the redhead didn't say anything after a moment, Harry shifted uneasily and said, "Hello, Prefect."

Percy blinked and met his gaze. "You weren't at breakfast this morning. I half expected to find you collapsed in a corridor from the strain of Wood's Quidditch practices. I most certainly didn't expect to find you sneaking off here," he paused, "or to be breaking into this room, let alone to succeed in doing so."

Harry dipped his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Prefect." The air between them was silent for a span, and he was about to ask if he was in trouble when the redhead spoke again,

"Do you know what this room is? What the rooms beyond are?"

"Um," Harry hesitated. "I thought it might be a training room."

"For what?"

"Er, for weapons and things..." he said slowly.

"Weapons come in all sorts."

"Well, weapons like swords and daggers, of course."

"Were you looking for one?"

"What?"

"A sword, or dagger," the redhead questioned.

"No."

"Do you have one?"

Harry frowned. "Am I in trouble, Prefect?"

Percy gave him a long look then strode forward. "This place is called the Bladeworks," he said, crossing the room, "and this room is the Room of Reflection. The tablets on the walls are meant to be studied by those learning the art of the blade. Beyond these doors..." Harry quickly stepped out of the prefect's way, and the redhead laid his hand on the etched doors. There was a flash of orange light and a loud click. "Are the Training Platforms."

The prefect pulled the doors open and revealed a vast space open to the arched underside of the roof, and lit with daylight streaming in from a single, circular window at the end of the room. They stepped in and candles waiting in chandeliers dangling from the roof's upper supports flickered into life simultaneous with the torches bracketed on the room's two walls. The bright firelight shone down upon several levels of stone floor, each rectangular section connected to the others by short sets of wide steps that began by the doorway and rose upward until the topmost section was over twice the tall prefect's height. The floors were dusty with abandonment. Several crates lay stacked in bunches on each level with what appeared to be a few broken dummies leant against them. On the far sides of the first level, sets of stairs went downwards, making the first platform smaller as space was taken up for two doorways, one on either end.

"It's been a while since anyone's wanted to use these rooms," Percy said suddenly. Harry jumped slightly at the sound. "Less families are teaching their children about the Old skills, and few of those that do learn decide to uphold them beyond the basic level. It's unlikely Hogwarts will ever see another master swordsman graduate from their halls."

"Prefect," Harry asked, looking up at him, "why are you telling me this?"

Blue eyes looked down at him. "You want to practice, don't you? Though Hogwarts no longer has a professor dedicated to the Bladeworks, the rooms are open to anyone who wants to follow this line of study. However, discretion is advised. If a person does not want to practice with a blade then they have no business being in the Bladeworks. You understand?"

"Yes, Prefect," Harry said, a little stunned.

"Good. Well then," the prefect seemed to gather himself up again, "I suggest you read the Code of Conduct in the Room of Reflection before you do any practicing. After that, enjoy your use of the Bladeworks." He turned around to exit the room, then paused. "But do remember to come down for lunch." Then he left.

For a long while after, Harry stood there, wondering why Percy hadn't scolded him and deducted points for breaking into a locked room, why he'd unlocked the second door for him, how he did so, and why he was being allowed to practice unsupervised. It all seemed quite strange.

Eventually, he went into the Room of Reflection and read the Code of Conduct. Then he returned to the Training Platforms, determined to get at least a little bit of practice in before lunch.

••••••••

The next week brought October, and with it watchful eyes. Harry caught Prefect Weasley looking at him often. Whenever they crossed paths the redhead gave him a searching glance, and at meals as well. At times he thought he saw people from the other houses watching him too, but if they were they were being much more discrete about it because he never managed to identify who it was. It made him uncomfortable.

As he took his seat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he wondered if Professor Quirrell felt like he was being watched all the time too. It was rumored that he'd had a run-in with a vampire, which caused his stutter and flighty attitude because he was afraid the vampire was going to come after him. It was also the only rumor that adequately explained why the professor and Defense classroom always smelt so heavily of garlic. Harry just hoped that he wouldn't turn into a quivering man like Quirrell from being watched.

"T-t-today we will beg-gin to discuss what are kn-known as Sp-spiritual Creatures and B-beings in honor of the up-upcoming Halloween fes-festivities," Quirrell announced. "Sp-spiritual Creatures and Beings can in-include ghosts..."

As the professor turned to the blackboard and began writing, Neville released a pained hiss from between clenched teeth. Harry sent him a questioning look that was becoming far too familiar feeling, and Neville shook his head and rubbed at his lightning bolt scar before focusing on his notes. Sighing softly, Harry wondered what it would take to convince Neville to go to Madam Pomfrey for a pain-relieving potion. The Boy-Who-Lived always got terrible headaches in Defense, and Harry couldn't blame him. It was probably the overpowering scent of garlic and the other odd, pongy smells in the room that caused them; they certainly made him feel a little queasy.

"B-by the e-end of this month, you'll be well p-prepared for H-halloween," Quirrell said, facing the class again. "F-for now, let's start with our very own H-hogwarts ghosts."

••••••••

One week later, Harry was running up and down the corridors chasing after a ghost called Grimulf son of Magni.

"Stop! Please," he shouted after the ghost gliding along ahead of him.

Grimulf, clothed in silvery boiled-leather armor and furs, faced him with a glare that could rival Professor Snape's and growled, "You have to catch me first, boy."

Harry leapt at the momentarily still ghost, but Grimulf floated up out of his reach and chuckled as Harry fell to the floor.

"You'll have to try harder than that!" Grimulf laughed. He breezed around a corner, shouting over his shoulder, "Come on!"

"Ouch," Harry muttered, picking himself up and looking at his scuffed palms. "Why'd I have to get the Viking warrior? Sir Nicholas or one of the gloomy nuns would have been so much easier." He was starting to feel quite jealous of Lavender, who was assigned the Fat Friar. All she would have to do was walk up to the ghost in the corridor between classes and politely ask if she could touch his hand for Professor Quirrell's assignment on the physical aspects of ghosts. He understood it would bother the friendlier ghosts to have all the first years asking to put their limbs through them, but he really wished they agreed to put up with it for this one assignment. It had taken him half an hour just to find Grimulf son of Magni, and he'd been chasing the evasive ghost for another thirty minutes since then.

Rounding the corner to continue the game of kneazle and mouse Grimulf insisted on playing, Harry chased the ghost through the Trophy Room and surrounding corridors. Grimulf released cheerful bellows of laughter the entire time, obviously enjoying his struggle. The ghost would disappear through a wall, hide in a suit of armor around a corner, or sit atop the trophy cases and then reappear to frighten and trick him. Harry was becoming increasingly frustrated, and his determination to catch the ghost grew.

Grimulf disappeared again, but this time Harry thought he knew where the ghost was going. The Viking warrior had a tendency to return to a corridor containing a tapestry that depicted a winged boar. Harry spun about and ran toward the corridor. He pushed for extra speed when he saw Grimulf hovering in front of the tapestry, a look of surprise on the ghostly face. He sprinted forward and leapt at Grimulf.

An icy-cold sensation like he'd thrown himself through a freezing mist shivered across his skin, and he fell against the tapestry, through it, and landed hard in a stone tunnel. Harry groaned and sat up, his palms and wrists throbbing. "Merlin, that stings!"

Grimulf's head appeared through the tapestry. "You hurt, child?"

"It's nothing," Harry said distractedly. He was looking at the space he found himself in behind the tapestry. It was dark, and appeared to be a hidden tunnel with rounded walls, smooth sides, and floor that sloped downward. He wondered if this was the place where he and Malfoy had fallen and slide to the mysterious hall where the cult was. Harry turned to the ghost. "Do you know where this leads?"

"Of course I know where it leads, boy," Grimulf growled, "though I've never been down there myself. The Arcane Hall is warded against we spectral beings."

"Arcane Hall?"

"Yes, and don't be surprised that you've never heard of it. You'll forget about it too when you leave Hogwarts."

"Why would I do that?" Harry frowned.

"Forget?" Grimulf fiddled with the axe at his belt. "Everyone forgets. It's part of the place's enchantment. I think the Friar once said it had something to do with being a place people could go to without fear of their secrets being spread or something. What does it matter? You won't even remember ever being in there once you leave. Though I suppose you must remember it when you return since people keep going back there."

Harry considered that. It explained why the Arcane Hall wasn't mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_ , and why he'd never heard any rumors about it from the older students. Perhaps the reason he wasn't able to talk about the cult and its members was because he'd seen them in that enchanted Hall.

"Well, you've caught me, child. So I'll be on my way. Good job, I guess." Grimulf's head disappeared, although Harry could still hear him humming in the corridor beyond.

Without having to worry about chasing Grimulf any longer, Harry pulled out his wand and cast a wand-lighting charm, grimacing as holding it made his hands sting more. He tried to look further down the tunnel, but could only see a short distance before a bend blocked his view. If he wanted to see the Hall again, he'd have to go down.

Harry checked his wristwatch. Curfew was still a few hours away. That would give him plenty of time to investigate. He scooted to where the tunnel slanted more sharply, thinking he and Malfoy must have fallen right on the edge of it the first time they went through in order for them to slide so suddenly, took a steadying breath, and pushed off.

Wind rushed past as he picked up speed, and he almost felt like he was flying. The turns weren't nearly as jostling when he wasn't bumping into Malfoy at each one. He held back a whoop of joy and enjoyed the ride. Soon Harry saw a bit of light and he was dropped out of the tunnel's end and onto the dusty rug again, this time catching himself before he could fall on it.

A tall, shadowy figure went past him, and Harry's gaze shot to it. From behind, the figure looked like a male student with its short-cropped hair and black robes, but its features were blurry. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed them against the inside of his sleeve before putting them back on and looking again. The figure was further down the corridor now and just as blurry as before. When it ducked into one of the alcoves he'd seen seats in before, he caught a glimpse of its face. A frisson of fear raced through him. The figure's face was featureless, as if it were the blank face of a porcelain doll that had yet to be painted.

Feeling his breath hitch, Harry tried to calm down and examine his surroundings. It was brighter this time. More torches and candles were burning, along with some other fire-holders. The tapestry behind him, which was split down the middle to make it easier for people to brush through the exit, depicted a winged boar just like the one he'd entered through did. He edged toward the gallery and looked into the main part of the Hall. Structurally, it looked exactly as it did when he and Malfoy were there before, but while there was no violet-robed group of cultists this time, there were more of those strange, blurry figures.

Some of the figures were blurrier than others. A pair of them sitting in an alcove across the gallery were even more shadowy than the figure that passed him by. He couldn't even tell if they were boys or girls. Meanwhile, a group of them sitting on the benches below were easily identified as male and female students of various heights and hair colors with only slightly obscured facial features, and he could clearly hear them talking about the first Quidditch match of the season. While such a normal topic of conversation reassured him that they were indeed students and not some kind of spiritual being Quirrell hadn't taught about yet, he couldn't see any marker that would tell him what house they were from though. The House crests on the school robes a few of them were wearing seemed to have been replaced with the Hogwarts crest.

Suddenly Harry wondered what he looked like. He appeared normal to himself, but would he seem blurry to others? What about the people who were talking to others? Did they look shadowy to each other too, or not? Why hadn't the cultists been hard to see? If they hadn't been wearing masks, Harry had a feeling he would have been able to see their faces just as clearly as he'd seen their clothes.

He didn't think any answers would pop out of the air, so he began to explore, skirting around the groups of more shadowy people. Even though he was fairly certain they were all students under some kind of glamor, they were still scary-looking, and he didn't want to try talking to them. Only a few of the alcoves in the gallery held anyone. When he went down to the lower level there were more people, gathered in small groups on the couches and chairs under the gallery's overhang and mostly around the clusters of colored crystals, but there were far more sitting places than there were people. He walked further into the Hall, and was a little surprised at how no one paid any attention to him. He supposed the shadowy blur people seemed to become made them almost invisible or ghost-like to the other people and not worthy of attention.

Harry wandered to the back of the Hall, past the curving edge of the great wall with the dragons, and found that the wall wasn't as thick as he expected, and it didn't connect to another stone structure behind it. He wondered, not for the first time, what kind of doorway the dragon mosaic was if it could turn into a door, but clearly didn't go anywhere beyond the wall, yet the cultists surely went somewhere.

Two other clusters of crystals stood in the corners behind the wall. One to the left glowed red and had orange fire crackling around it, and the one to the right shone yellow and had dark purple, almost black, flowers growing around it. Harry was inspecting the flowers, when a trio of students walked past him. Glancing over at them, he was startled realize that he could clearly see one of them. The student was a tall upper-year girl with short hair dyed black and dark green. She was unmistakably Gemma Farley, a sixth year Slytherin prefect.

As if she could sense his gaze, Farley looked over her shoulder at him with strange purple eyes. Her expression seemed to say 'What are you looking at?' and made Harry want to flinch away from her. Then she looked away, and left the Hall through a large archway in the wall between the red and yellow crystals with her two companions.

After a moment, Harry realized that must be the way out, or a way out, as there were a couple other smaller doors he'd seen leading off the Hall as well. Slowly, Harry followed them, and found the large corridor through the archway soon split off in several directions and got smaller. There weren't any clues as to which corridor led where, and Prefect Farley was no longer in sight, so Harry picked one on his right and followed it until he reached a small door.

Upon trying the door and finding it unlocked, Harry opened it, and stepped out into the same alcove the short-cut slide to the library ended at. He realized that, much like the Fat Lady's portrait, the door he was holding onto had a painting on the other side of it. Shutting the door carefully, he took a moment to examine the painting. It was a landscape piece, and in the bottom right corner a winged boar was peeking out from some bushes.

He would have looked at it longer, but a whooshing sound came from the tapestry behind him, and suddenly Hermione fell out and grabbed onto him, knocking them both to the floor. Pain shot up his arms, and Harry groaned and looked at his hands from his position on the floor as Hermione hurriedly picked herself up. They had only been scuffed before, but now his palms were cut and bleeding.

"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry," said Hermione, kneeling next to him and grimacing at the sight of his hands.

"What are you doing here? Isn't it close to curfew," Harry asked, carefully sitting up.

"Well, yes, that's why I took the slide. I wanted to pick up the reference text for our Transfiguration assignment and get back before curfew."

Harry shook his head, that assignment wasn't due until next week. "Only you, Hermione."

"Do you think Madam Pomfrey would have something for that," Hermione asked, looking uncomfortably at his hands.

"Probably," Harry sighed. He didn't want to walk all the way to the infirmary and then back to the tower, but he had Quidditch practice the next morning and having injured hands would be a problem.

"I-I'll walk with you," Hermione said. She held out her hands for him.

Harry wondered if she was just being nice because she'd hurt him, seeing as they hadn't resolved their earlier conflict, but held out his arms and let her grasp his wrists to help him get up.

An awkward silence descended between them as they walked toward the infirmary. Harry held his hands up as they went to keep them from throbbing too much. Hermione tugged on the sleeves of her robe.

"Harry," she said suddenly, "I'm sorry about earlier, not the falling on you, before that, although I'm sorry for that too. I... I don't want to fight anymore."

Surprised, Harry said, "Really?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, "I was scared, and it wasn't your fault exactly, and I didn't know what to do, but I don't like fighting with you."

"Um, okay." Harry wasn't sure what else to say. It seemed to be enough for Hermione though. A bit of a skip appeared in her step and she smiled.

"Good. So how far are you on Quirrell's assignment?"

 **A/N:** So, lots of important set-up in this chapter. Harry finally got into the Bladeworks and back into the newly named Arcane Hall. What do you think of Hermione's apology? As usual, reviews are much appreciated! Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain


	12. Y1: Halloween

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is the intellectual property of me, HowlingRain, and I do not give anyone permission to post this story under any other name or on any other site.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** Happy Halloween! Sorry about disappearing for a while everyone, work's been crazy. But, this chapter fits the date quite well. Thank you to littlesprout and Ern Estine 13624 for reviewing last chapter, and Kaidyen for writing messages that always make me smile :). I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 12:** Halloween

Classes were much better now that he and Hermione weren't ignoring each other's existence. The weird tension that he'd almost started getting used to vanished and Harry thought both of them were focusing better. Except in A History of Magic. Harry actually found himself dozing off more easily now, which really annoyed him. It didn't help that he was running out of sweets to bring to class. Still, it seemed he and Hermione remained the only two first years that could stay awake for a whole lesson, as far as they knew.

Not fighting with Hermione did have one downside, however. It made it harder for him to sneak off to the Bladeworks or to the Arcane Hall. When he tried to take her along to the Arcane Hall once, she tried to go through the winged boar tapestry and hit a wall. Where Harry saw a tunnel and could go through it, Hermione both couldn't see it and couldn't go through it. She thought he was tricking her at first, and when she finally believed he wasn't, she spent several hours in the library trying to figure out why she couldn't get through. They'd found no answers yet, and Harry was hesitant to slip a message to Malfoy to ask about his own progress on the mystery cult and Hall they'd discovered. While the blond hadn't thrown any insults his way since their duel, Malfoy had no qualms with making quips about any of the other Gryffindors, with Ron being a frequent target.

As it were, Hermione's researching gave Harry time to return to the Arcane Hall, but he didn't stay there long. Two more students were there that he could see clearly, and the two older boys, prefects for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, had given him strange looks. He was starting to suspect that it was the prefects who were watching him during the times he felt eyes following him around the school, and especially in the Great Hall.

Partly out of annoyance, but mostly because he wanted to know why they were watching him when he hadn't done anything wrong (that he knew of), he started to watch them back. He began under the assumption that they had something to do with the cult, and believed Farley's voice sounded a lot like the female cultist they'd overheard. However, all he'd actually managed to find out so far was that Robert Hillard and Gabriel Truman, respectively the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects he'd seen in the Arcane Hall, had crushes on each other but were oblivious to the others feelings and as such each was hesitant to tell the other how they felt. The other members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had a betting pool going on when they'd finally confess.

Along with his training in the Bladeworks and the mystery of the Arcane Hall, Harry also continued to have Quidditch practice. Oliver Wood refused to let up on the training regime he'd created despite various protests, and although Harry's muscles stopped being so terribly sore from it, he still fell into bed the night after a practice completely exhausted. He didn't dare complain though. The days were passing quickly, and he knew that soon he'd be flying in his first ever Quidditch match. He wanted to be as prepared as possible.

••••••••

On Halloween, Harry was concentrating on the levitation charm. As soon as Professor Flitwick announced that they'd be learning the spell, he determined to master it in time for the Quidditch match on Saturday. Hopefully, if he were knocked from his broom during the game he'd be able to cast it on himself and float to the ground instead of falling. So far, he'd only gotten the feather they were practicing with to hover a couple inches off the desk before dropping back down.

Seamus had already incinerated one feather with sloppy wand movements, and Professor Flitwick was retrieving another for him. Meanwhile, Dean was laughing at Seamus's lack of eyebrows due to the sudden flames. Hermione was still analyzing the spell. Harry was starting to get suspicious about that. It was almost like she refused to cast a spell in public until she was certain she'd get it right.

"Stop!" Hermione said sternly, and Harry looked up to see her looking at Ron with exasperation. Ron had his wand held in a loose grip, and wore a startled expression.

"What," the redhead asked.

"You're going to make your feather combust too if you keep going at it like that, and your pronunciation is wrong. It's wing-gar-dium levi-o-sa. Like this." Hermione pointed her wand at her own feather and carefully said, " _Wingardium leviosa_ " while making the proper 'swish and flick' wand movement. Raising her wand slowly, the feather rose into the air following the direction she was pointing.

Professor Flitwick cheered and awarded Hermione five points for casting the charm correctly. Hermione smiled, clearly happy with her achievement. Ron, on the other hand, looked decidedly sour for the rest of the lesson and jabbed at his feather half-heartedly, making it float only a hands breadth off the table by the end of the lesson while everyone else, even Seamus, managed to make theirs hover over their heads.

As Harry left the classroom with Hermione, following behind the rest of the Gryffindor boys, he turned to her to ask if she thought the homework Professor Flitwick had assigned was going to be easy when Ron's voice reached them.

"It's no wonder she doesn't have any friends but Potter. She's such a know-it-all! I bet even he'll drop her by break. How he's stood her this long I'll never know."

Harry watched with no small degree of horror as Hermione rapidly paled and her face screwed up in pain. She burst into tears, and before Harry could stop her, she pushed through the boys ahead of them and took off running down the corridor. Harry hurried after her, shooting Ron a glare as he passed. He followed her all the way to one of the less frequented girls toilets on the main floor, where he had to stop outside as the door slammed shut.

"Hermione! Hermione," he called, rapping on the door, "Please come out. Hermione!"

"Go away," Hermione shouted, voice muffled by the door.

"I'm not going away," Harry said. "I'm waiting right here until you come out."

He didn't get any response, so Harry shifted his bag and took a seat on the bench across the corridor so he'd have a clear view of the door when she came out. He checked his watch and saw that they were going to be late for Transfiguration. Harry wondered if Hermione remembered that they had a quiz on the runic alphabet used in transfiguration and decided she was too upset to care or had honestly forgotten.

For a moment Harry considered going to take the quiz, but decided to stay. He'd already said he was going to be there after all, and he didn't want to ruin their fragile friendship. Yet he probably should try saying something to her about asking someone if they wanted her help first or just letting them figure something out for themselves unless they asked for help. He just wasn't sure how. She'd already stopped being such a 'know-it-all' around him, and he attributed that to proving that he knew just as much about most things as she did. He knew that wouldn't work for everyone else though.

As for Ron, Harry wasn't sure what to do about him. Or if he should do anything. Ron had a right to get upset, he knew, but if Hermione hadn't stopped him he might have done something unfortunate like Seamus had, too. He really shouldn't have said something so mean publicly though. It made Harry wonder if Ron knew she'd hear him and wanted her to.

Deciding to leave it and hope it worked out on its own for now, Harry pulled out his textbook for Transfiguration and studied the runic alphabet some more. He wanted to be one hundred percent certain he knew it for when McGonagall undoubtedly cornered him and asked why he didn't show up for the quiz. She'd probably make him take the quiz during a detention for skipping class or something.

Eventually classes let out for lunch, and Harry could see a large number of students hurrying down the corridor that intersected with the one he was in. Parvati Patil broke away from a crowd of his classmates moving towards the Great Hall and quickly trotted over to the toilets, giving Harry a startled look when she saw him waiting nearby. She disappeared inside the toilets for a few minutes, and when she returned she fiddled with the butterfly clip attached to the end of her plait of dark hair and whisper-shouted to him, "She's still crying," before rejoining the mass of students going to lunch.

Harry put his Transfiguration book away and wondered what he should do. From the sound of it, he could go to lunch, come back, and Hermione would never know he'd been gone. That didn't seem right though. He rummaged in his bag and took out the bound packet of papers they'd been given for their flying lessons. The reading assignment Madam Hooch had given them was dull, but it was something to do.

A shout drew his attention to the end of the corridor. It was Neville and Ron. Ron looked distracted, and Neville looked rather grim. The Boy-Who-Lived had been quiet and withdrawn all day. Even more students than usual were gawking at him it seemed, remembering the holiday as not only Halloween, but the day Voldy was defeated. Harry wasn't sure if it was just the staring or something more that caused Neville's poor mood, but he didn't feel that it was his place to ask. He certainly didn't want to be questioned about his family situation.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, trying to smile a little as he neared. "Is it true? Parvati said Hermione's hiding in the toilets."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, and I promised I wouldn't go anywhere until she came out, so..." He shrugged.

Neville's smile became a bit more genuine. "So it's good I brought you this, then?" The Boy-Who-Lived held out the napkin and unfolded it to reveal a sandwich and an apple.

"You brought me lunch?" He felt his eyes widen, and blinked.

"Yeah, from Ron and me, seeing as it's Ron's fault you're stuck here."

"Hey! It's not my fault if she can't take the truth," Ron grumbled.

"You didn't have to be so mean though!" Harry rebutted as he took the napkin and its contents from Neville.

"Sure, whatever. Can we go back to lunch now?"

Neville frowned but nodded. "I guess we'll see you later, Harry."

"Thanks for the lunch," Harry responded with a smile. That Neville remembered him and was kind enough to bring him food made him feel good. Then Neville and Ron left, so Harry went back to reading.

When Hermione still hadn't come out for flying lessons, Harry was glad it was a lecture day instead of a flying day. Listening to Madam Hooch talk about Quidditch and actual flying was okay. Listening to her talk about the Ministry laws governing flying and how to avoid being seen by muggles was just boring. He'd rather listen to her lecture about broom care repetitively than hear her drone on about law 7, subsection Qe or whatever.

Finally it was time for the Halloween Feast, and Harry decided he'd had enough with waiting. Even though it meant she'd have to see Ron, Hermione couldn't possibly want to miss the feast could she? It was unthinkable. Harry had listened to the twins going on about the feast at Quidditch practice for the last week, and he wasn't going to miss it even if it meant he had to go into the girls' toilet to drag Hermione out.

Finished packing his things away, Harry went to the door and rapped on it. "Hermione, come on! It's time to come out!"

"Harry?"

"We're going to miss the feast!"

The door opened and Hermione came out. Her eyes were red and her hair seemed a bit frizzier than normal, but otherwise she looked all right for someone who'd been crying for most of the day. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been here all day," Harry told her. "We missed that quiz in Transfiguration and lunch and that boring lecture with Madam Hooch."

"What?" Hermione looked confused.

"The quiz, we missed it..."

"No, you stayed here all day?"

"Well, yeah. I said I would." Suddenly Hermione wrapped him in a hug, and he hugged back awkwardly. "Uh, are you all right, Hermione?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, pulling away and wiping at her eyes again. "I'm sorry I've been bossy. I didn't realize some people didn't want help, but I don't know how to make friends other than to be useful."

"That's okay, Hermione. It is nice that you know things and can help, but I like hanging out with you best when we can work together."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione covered her nose with her sleeve. "Let's get away from here, the boys' toilet reeks."

Harry noticed the smell too and frowned. "That isn't the boys' toilet. No one's gone in there today."

"Then where's it coming from?"

A loud grunt came from further down the corridor, and Harry turned to see a troll. Standing at almost four meters in height with a boulder-like build and grey skin, the troll's small, bald head seemed to swivel as it looked around the corridor in apparent confusion, while its long ears flicked up and down as if warding off bugs. In one of its lengthy arms it cradled a big wooden club while using its stubby fingers to scratch at its loincloth. Its other hand picked at a scab above its horny feet.

"Quietly go back to the toilet," Harry whispered. Hermione grabbed onto his arm, and they shuffled over to the door. A sharp creak came from the door as Hermione opened it, and the troll's attention slid over to them. "Get inside!"

They ran in and shut the door firmly behind them. There was no way to lock the door from their side, so they each hid in one of the cubicles. Standing awkwardly in the stalls, Hermione asked, "Do you think it will try to get in?"

"Well, it'll probably try, but mountain trolls are pretty dim, so maybe it thinks we disappeared when we went out of sight. On another note, are all the girls' toilets this nice? The boys' are always clean in the morning, but it doesn't take long before there's paper towels thrown everywhere and things are written on the walls," Harry asked.

"Harry, really? And yes, all the toilets I've been in here are usually this clean."

"Sorry, I was curious."

Hermione sighed. "I hope the professors know about the troll. I wonder how it got in."

The crack of splintering wood filled the air, and Hermione shrieked.

Harry shouted, "Hermione, duck!" and dropped to the floor. The troll's club smashed through the wood of the cubicles and buried them under the shattered shards.

"Hey, troll! Over here!"

Pushing away some of the debris, Harry looked over at the doorway and saw Neville and Ron standing there with short planks of wood in their hands. Ron was preparing to throw one of the planks again while Neville seemed to be frantically trying to see them through the pile of broken wood.

"Harry, Hermione, get out of there!" Neville yelled and then threw a piece of wood, hitting the troll right on its noggin.

While the troll began looking around for the source of the wood that was hitting it, Harry pulled himself out from under the debris and Hermione did the same. Once he untangled his bag from the wreckage, they crawled as quickly and unobtrusively as they could to the sinks. There was a crash, and splinters of broken porcelain flew through the air, followed shortly by water spraying from the pipes. Harry opened his eyes and found the troll's club to be buried in the tile a scant few centimeters away from his face.

"Somebody stop it!" Harry shouted as the troll raised its club again. He and Hermione tried to get away, but the wood Ron was throwing and flashes of light Neville was emitting from his wand to distract it weren't working. The club came arcing down towards them again and Harry held up his hands and screamed, " _Protego_!"

A shield of bluish-white light sprang into existence, and the club slammed into it with a boom. A shock wave seemed to ripple along the shield, and the force of it shook through Harry and knocked both him and Hermione against the wall under the sinks, where they were drenched with tap water. The shield held as long as the club was pressed against it, but when the troll lifted it away, the shield fell. Harry pulled out his wand and tried to cast the spell again, but he only got a spark.

There was a shout, and suddenly Neville appeared, wielding a particularly sharp piece of wood like a sword, and stabbed at the troll's belly. Distracted, the troll grabbed ahold of Neville and dangled the Boy-Who-Lived upside-down.

"Help!" Neville yelped, dropping the stick in favor of trying to grab at the troll's hand to free himself. Sadly he wasn't very effective in this, as he could hardly touch his toes normally, let alone reach where his feet were being held in a troll's grasp while upside-down.

"Hold on, Neville!" Harry quickly put his wand away and rummaged in his bag for his dagger. While he was getting his dagger out, Ron was ineffectually trying to cast the levitation spell to get the troll's club away from Neville. Seeing what Ron was trying to do, Hermione began searching for where her wand had fallen among the debris.

Finally getting his dagger out, Harry unsheathed it and charged at the troll's legs. He stabbed the blade into the troll's right leg, causing it to release a bellowing cry of pain and rage. Speedily, Harry withdrew his dagger and rushed around so the troll wouldn't see him. Staying in the troll's blind spot, Harry stabbed it next in the hand that was holding Neville. The troll released Neville with an angry yowl and swung its hand, catching Harry on the shoulder and sending him tumbling into the ruined cubicles.

Sitting up quickly amongst the debris, Harry tried to scramble to his feet as the troll brought its club down over Neville's head. The club never reached Neville though, much to the troll's confusion. It was floating in mid-air above the troll. Harry looked over towards Ron and saw Hermione standing with him. Pointing at the troll she made a slashing gesture. Ron used his wand to mimic her, and the club hit the troll hard on the top of its head.

The troll groaned and went cross-eyed. It staggered forward, and Neville hurriedly backed up from his position on the floor. Then the troll wobbled and fell with a thunderous bang that sent vibrations through the stone.

They all stared at the fallen troll, until Neville whispered, "Do you think it's dead?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice shaky, "it's still breathing."

"I think it's knocked out," Ron added.

"We should get out of here," Harry said, stowing his dagger out of sight in his bag after wiping the troll blood off on his wet robes.

"Harry! Are you all right," Hermione asked. "You've a cut on your cheek."

"I do?" Harry carefully touched his cheek, she was right. He thought he might have cut it when the first sink shattered. He sighed. He'd have to go see Madam Pomfrey. Maybe she could also give him something for the bruises he sensed were forming. Focusing back on Hermione, he asked, "Did you find your wand?"

"Not yet." She turned her gaze on Ron and Neville. "Help me look?"

Neville held up a wand and asked, "This is it, right? I grabbed it when it felt it on the floor."

"Oh yes! Thank you, Neville!" Hermione took the wand back from him, while Neville blushed at the praise.

Harry turned to Neville and Ron. "Do the professors know there's a troll in the school?"

Before either boy could answer, McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell ran into the room with their wands drawn. McGonagall went quite pale when she saw them with the troll, while Snape almost gaped at them, and Quirrell started trembling.

"What happened here?" McGonagall questioned, looking at each of them in turn, "Are you all right? Why aren't you in your dormitories like the rest of your housemates?"

"Professor!" A shout came from the corridor. "Professor McGonagall! We're missing-" Percy burst into the room and came to a halt. "There you are!" he burst out upon seeing them. "Ron, Neville, Harry, Hermione, are you all right? You two," he spun to face Ron and Neville, "are supposed to be in the Tower. Why didn't you tell anyone that Harry and Hermione weren't at the feast?" Suddenly Harry was confronted with Percy getting a little too close to him and touching his cheek. "You're hurt! Is this the worst of it? Professors we should get these four to Madam Pomfrey."

"Mr. Weasley is right, Minerva," Snape said, "They can be questioned on the way to the hospital wing. In the meantime..." Snape began to drawl, "Quirrell and I can deal with the troll before it wakes up."

"Yes, you're right," McGonagall agreed. "Mr. Weasley, if you would return to Gryffindor and inform the others that their schoolmates have been found."

"I'm afraid not, Professor," Percy said with a grimace. "I barely got out without Oliver following me the first time. Unless I come back with a full report on the health of his Seeker he's bound to storm the infirmary."

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, of course. You'd best come with us then."

Harry'd never been on a more awkward walk in his life than the walk he took to the infirmary.

After McGonagall cast drying spells on Hermione and him, Hermione retold the events as they walked. She left out that Ron was the bully who she was crying in the bathroom because of and apologized profusely for missing the Transfiguration quiz at the same time as asking if they could still take it. After detailing the fight with the troll and how Ron knocked it out and saved them, McGonagall took and awarded points that resulted in Gryffindor gaining ten points in the end, mostly for his casting of a successful shield charm and Ron's use of the levitation charm. McGonagall also asked Hermione if she needed help with bullies, but after replying that she wanted to take care of it herself the topic was dropped.

The entire time Harry felt Percy's gaze on him from where he walked next to Ron.

When they finally arrived at the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey cast scanning spells on them and put him, Neville, and Hermione behind separate curtains to have bruise balm rubbed on their backs and Harry's shoulder. Ron stood outside, unharmed, but complaining about the troll-smell that clung to his clothes.

Once Harry had the cut on his cheek cleaned and a drop of dittany put on it that healed it, they were cleared to return to Gryffindor Tower. Percy made sure they had a plate of sandwiches first, since Harry and Hermione had missed the feast entirely and Neville and Ron had missed most of it, and then the Gryffindor prefect escorted them back to the dormitories. Harry had to escape Oliver's grasp after he got there and was scolded by his captain, then finally fell into bed, utterly exhausted.

 **A/N:** So that's the end of Harry's Halloween. Hopefully all of you got to enjoy your own Halloween Feast since Harry certainly didn't get to go to his. Just a little heads up, the next chapter (although already mostly done), won't be posted in November because I'm going to do NaNoWriMo for the first time. Wish me luck! Anyway, reviews are very appreciated! Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome! Have a very Happy Halloween!

Thanks for reading! ~ HowlingRain


	13. Y1: Quidditch

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is the intellectual property of me, HowlingRain, and I do not give anyone permission to post this story under any other name or on any other site.

 **Source:** the base of this story is drawn from this text-

Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.

and this film-

Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.

 **Summary:** AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.

 **A/N:** No, it's not an April Fool's joke. But oh my gosh guys! This has taken forever! Life got crazy busy, so I didn't have much time to write and then I had a ton of trouble getting this to upload on the site, but the new chapter is finally here! Sorry about the insane wait. I can't even remember if I replied to the last chapter's reviews, but I do have your names! So an extra big thank you to littlesprout and jayfeather63 for the kind reviews. Now I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

 **The Curator Chronicles:**

 **Year I – Cracking the Pot**

 **By: HowlingRain**

 **Chapter 13:** Quidditch

Harry trudged across the frost-covered lawn to the Quidditch pitch. The twins walked on either side of him, pestering for information about the troll. Their already bright auras sparked with surprise when he told them about Ron knocking it out, and he had to look away. He wasn't sure why, but everyone's auras were stronger today. Or maybe he was just more sensitive to them. It was especially noticeable with Fred and George, who he'd already been becoming more attuned to, but he could easily see the others' as well when he'd had to focus fairly hard to do so before. Angelina and Alicia walked nearby, their auras less blinding as they fussed over him whenever he yawned. He still felt exhausted, even though he fell asleep immediately after returning the night before.

Ahead of them, Oliver stalked his way to the pitch, muttering to himself and reading something in a leather-bound book.

Once they were ensconced within the strategy room, Oliver went to the chalkboard and rounded on them. "As you all know, tomorrow is the first match of the season, in which, we will be playing against Slytherin." He turned to the chalkboard with a piece of green colored chalk and the leather-bound book in hand and began writing. "Today, we're going to study and strategize." The team gave a soft sigh of relief that Oliver either didn't notice or chose to ignore. "First, we'll start with a rundown of the players."

Oliver turned to face them and pointed at the first name he'd written. "Marcus Flint. What do you know?"

"He's ugly," Fred answered immediately.

"His teeth are huge," George added with matching hand gestures.

"Not his physical appearance," Oliver snapped without much heat. "His position, his flying style, you know!"

The twins said, "We do?"

"He's the captain and a chaser," Angelina answered.

"And he's foul." Alicia scowled. "He'll break any rule to win."

Katie sighed and picked at the bench. "And he's aggressive, and strong enough to make that a big problem."

"That's right!" Oliver pointed at the next name on the board. "Now, Kevin Bletchley?"

"Chaser, and his brother's Keeper," Katie answered.

Harry listened closely as it went on like this, trying to commit it all to memory. Slytherin's Chasers were Marcus Flint, Kevin Bletchley, and Adrian Pucey. The Beaters, Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, were fairly new to the team. The Keeper was Miles Bletchley, younger brother to Kevin, and their Seeker was Terence Higgs. Apparently, Pucey and Higgs were the only two that played by the rules, while the rest were known for being big and mean.

After going through the players, Oliver talked strategy. Harry wasn't surprised to learn that Oliver had been sneaking into the stands during the Slytherin practices to study the other team. His captain detailed each formation he'd seen the Slytherins practice and how they could combat it. Then he turned to offence, and ran through all of the formations they'd been practicing as a reminder.

By the time Harry and the others escaped Oliver's clutches and ran off to breakfast, Harry was twice as nervous for the match as he'd been before. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the book Oliver had taken notes about the Slytherin team in was a grimoire, which only seemed fitting for Oliver. This discovery wasn't enough to distract him though, and he had trouble concentrating in his classes.

He was finally starting to relax during their break that afternoon. The previous evening's events had somehow drawn Neville, Ron, Harry, and Hermione closer together. Ron hadn't said a single mean thing all day, and Hermione had stopped filling every moment of silence with some fact or another. To combat this silence she clearly wasn't used to, she decided to lighten up about breaking the rules. She'd taken an empty jam jar from breakfast that morning, cleaned it, and then cast a spell that created bright blue flames that were warm, but wouldn't burn skin or other less-than-flammable objects. You still had to keep it away from cloth or paper, but in a jam jar it was the perfect thing to keep warm while standing in the courtyard's fresh air after being stuck in musty classrooms.

"This is brilliant, Hermione," Neville said as they crowded around the jar of flames.

Ron rubbed his hands together and held them closer to the heat. "Where did you learn this spell?"

"Oh, I was reading ahead in the _Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ , and after I read about the fire-making charm I looked up the further readings about it and found a book all about fire charms. This one looked the most useful, so I memorized it," she summarized, her aura glowing with happiness that left spots behind when Harry blinked.

"You'll have to show me that book sometime," Harry said, adjusting his grip on _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Oliver had loaned him the book over a month ago, but he still hadn't returned it. It had become somewhat comforting to read when he was feeling stressed.

"Sure," Hermione replied.

"What is going on here?"

At the familiar drawl of their potions professor they gasped, and Harry pivoted in place to see the man while hiding the jar of flames behind him. "H-hello, Professor," he said awkwardly, unnerved by the lack of vibrant aura around Snape after being nearly blinded by others all day.

The dour man surveyed them with a chilling look. Speaking slowly he said, "It's rather cold for students to be visiting out of doors... And what's this?" Snape's gaze had landed on the book Harry held. "Hand it over, Potter," he commanded. "Library books are not to be taken outside."

"But, sir-" Harry started, intending to tell him that it wasn't a library book.

"Hand. It. Over. Potter." Snape's glare was as unreadable as his aura.

Harry reluctantly held the book out, slightly unnerved, and Snape swiftly took it and turned away. He jolted at the suddenness and called out, "Sir! When can I-"

"It's confiscated, Potter. You can have it back when I decide you can." Snape left with a limping gait, and his robes billowed about him.

When Snape was out of hearing range Harry steadied himself and huffed, "He's such a git."

"I'll say," Ron agreed. "At least he didn't see the fire though. Who knows how many points he would taken for that!"

"I wonder what the specifics are for the rule about magic outside of class. The rules on the board in the common room are rather vague. They make it sound like any magic outside of class isn't allowed, but how are you supposed to practice then?" Hermione seemed to be asking herself more than them, but Neville answered anyway.

"Maybe you should check the school's charter? I think that's where all the official rules would be. That's what Gran told me to check if I had any questions, anyway."

Hermione brightened. "Do you think they'd have a copy in the library?"

Neville shrugged. "Probably."

"I'm going to go look! Umm..." Hermione looked down at the jar of flames in her hands. "Do any of you want to hold on to this?"

Ron asked, "Can you just put the lid on it?"

"Oh! Of course!" Hermione passed the jar over to Harry, and he held it while she rummaged in her tote for the lid. Once she found it she screwed it on the jar, and they watched for a moment to make sure nothing was going to happen. "Perfect," she said when it didn't explode or do anything else odd. She put it in her tote and waved at them as she walked away. "I'll see you later, then!"

"So..." Neville stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What do you want to do now?"

Harry readjusted the strap of his messenger bag and sighed. "I'm going to go to the staffroom and see if Snape's dropped my book off there yet. If I'm lucky maybe one of the other professors will give it to me."

"I'll come with you," Neville said, though his voice shook just a little.

Ron nodded. "Me too. If we're all there one of the professors will have to give it back."

"Thanks." Harry smiled, feeling grateful and a bit relieved that he wouldn't be facing Snape alone.

They started walking toward the staffroom, asking a few portraits for more detailed directions than 'the ground floor' on the way. When they reached the door, identifiable by two stone gargoyles dressed in the robes fashioned after the style of ancient scholars, they found it partially open. Harry motioned for Ron and Neville to be quiet and listened.

"Drat that beast," came Snape's voice. "The headmaster's insane to think it's a good protection."

Filch's voice drifted into hearing. "Aye, sir, that thing is a menace. Poor Mrs. Norris refuses to go near the door. I'm just glad I'm not the one that has to feed it."

The boys shared a look, and Harry reached out to gently push the door open further. Looking in through the widened opening, they could see a long, paneled room with a massive wooden table and many mismatched chairs. Sitting on the table was Snape. He had one leg propped up on a chair near him with his robe pulled back far enough to reveal a rolled-up trouser leg and bare calf. Snape's calf had a large gash on it. It was red and bloody, and the ragged skin around it was inflamed. Harry winced. It looked painful. Next to Snape stood Filch with a roll of bandages in his hands.

"I don't know what Hagrid sees in the creature." Snape was removing the lid of a small bottle containing an olive-colored liquid. "A cerberus does not make a good pet."

"Well, you know Hagrid, sir. He sees something hideously ugly and calls it cute!"

"Mrreow!"

Harry, Neville, and Ron jumped, knocking the door open further in their surprise as Mrs. Norris meowed loudly at their feet. The instant Snape saw them he covered his leg with his robe and glowered. "Get out," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry hurried to speak, "but my book!"

Suddenly the book was sailing through the air as Snape threw it at him. Harry caught it, and Snape commanded more virulently, "Get out!"

Quickly, Harry shut the door and the boys ran towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Did you see that?" Ron commented as they slowed at the staircases, "His leg was practically shredded!"

Neville, puffing a little, nodded. "It sounded... like the cerberus from the third floor corridor did it."

"But why would Snape go there?" Harry frowned.

"He must be trying to steal whatever it's guarding," Ron appeared surprisingly thoughtful. "When do you think he did it though?"

"Halloween," Neville stated. "It has to be. The instant Quirrell fainted he was up and moving toward the door. He would have had plenty of time to go to the corridor before he came to the girls toilet, too."

"Merlin, I really wish I knew what was under that trap door," Ron moaned, "It's got to really be something!"

"How did the troll get in anyway?" Harry couldn't remember hearing how the creature had managed to make it past the school's wards, let alone get inside the castle.

Ron and Neville both stopped walking and gave each other knowing looks.

"He must have let it in as a distraction," Ron said. "There's no way it could have gotten past the wards without Dumbledore knowing otherwise."

Harry caught on and was horrified. "You don't really think he'd do that, do you? He's a professor. I wouldn't think Dumbledore would let anyone dangerous be a professor, and he'd know if they were, right?"

"I don't know, Harry," Neville said. "Gran says he's awful busy. He's got Wizengamot meetings, and international stuff, and who knows what else. Maybe he hasn't had time to notice."

Ron looked a little horrified. "But it's Dumbledore! I think he'd notice no matter how busy he was if it was obvious. Snape must be tricking him somehow!"

"Well, maybe Dumbledore already knows," Harry said, frowning and holding his book close. "I mean, clearly Snape couldn't get past the cerberus, so maybe Dumbledore already knows, and is counting on traps to stop him until he slips up."

"Oh..." Ron sounded relieved.

"That makes sense," Neville agreed. "Still, I don't like it. If Dumbledore knows about it then why doesn't he catch him now?"

"Uh, evidence?" Harry said with a shrug. Evidence was always what the hero had to collect in the mystery stories he'd read.

"Yeah, I guess."

"So... What are we going to do with the rest of our afternoon, eh?" Ron asked. He looked at Harry. "And don't say assignments."

Harry grinned at him.

••••••••

Harry stared at the breakfast spread laid out before him. There were a few pieces of toast on his plate, put there by Hermione, all of them untouched. He was so nervous his hands trembled, and he highly doubted he could eat anything without it coming back up on his way out to the pitch.

Next to him, Hermione smeared another piece of toast with a different flavor of jam than any of the others on his plate. She seemed almost as nervous as him. Her hair was frizzier than usual, and she had spent the entire walk down to the Great Hall rambling about flight safety. He was glad the extra sensitivity he'd had to everyone's auras yesterday had calmed, though he hadn't figured out why it had happened in the first place. The Snitch would have been practically invisible to him if everyone in the stands was glowing, and that was only if the bright flashes Hermione's aura would have been giving off from her nerves hadn't blinded him first.

Ron and Neville were sat across from him. They had tried to get him to eat some of the toast Hermione gave him in the beginning, but after Oliver dropped by and said that he didn't remember much of his first game because a bludger knocked him out early on, they stopped and just let him be.

"Harry."

"Come on."

"It's time to go," the twins said as they flanked him on either side in their usual manner.

Nodding, Harry slowly stood up, and left with the twins. Shouts of "Good luck!" followed them out of the Hall, but he didn't feel any luckier for it. A flash of blond hair caught his eye, and Harry saw a glimpse of Malfoy and the other Slytherin first years obtaining little green and silver flags to wave during the match from an older student. Malfoy locked gazes with him for a moment, and the same cool calculating look he'd seen grace the pale boy's face before sent a nervous shiver down his spine. He wondered if Malfoy and the others were waiting for him to make a total fool of himself today.

The twins kept up a constant stream of jokes as they walked down to the pitch, but Harry was more focused on the tight feeling in his chest than what they were saying. Never before had the stands loomed so high against the cool clear blue skies as they approached the Gryffindor Quidditch Quarters, and a barely restrained urgency filled the locker rooms. Oliver led the team through a series of warm-up stretches before sending them off to change. Harry dressed in his official Quidditch robes for the first time and tried to distract himself by admiring the scarlet and gold uniform and making sure the straps of his gear were tightly cinched. Soon, however, he was more focused on the building rumble in the room as students filled the stands above them. When Oliver sat them all down so he could give his pre-match speech, the only thing that kept Harry's nerves from boiling over was how the twins seemed to know the speech by heart and were whispering it in silly high-pitched voices. Then it was time to go onto the pitch.

"Alright, chaps!" Oliver said, his face set in a determined expression but his voice giving away his excitement, "Everyone into formation! Once we reach the boundary line we mount up and go for a lap! Just like we rehearsed. Ready? Let's go!"

Harry felt his breath catch as Oliver opened the large door and the team walked onto the pitch. If it weren't for a subtle nudge from George he probably would have stood there, frozen while the rest of the team moved forwards without him. He'd never seen the stands so full, and it was a little overwhelming to actually see how many people where going to be watching him.

A second out of sync with the others, Harry mounted his Nimbus 2000 and took off with his team. The sensation of flying loosened the tension in his chest, and Harry finally felt able to breath. Glancing around while keeping in formation, he easily spotted the section the Gryffindor students sat in. Hanging over the side of the stands was a large, color-changing banner with a lion on it and the words Potter for President. His yearmates were standing behind the banner, visibly cheering although Harry had a hard time hearing them due to the wind. Instead, all he could really hear was a voice he recognized as belonging to Lee Jordan, who he then saw sitting in the Commentator's Box with Professor McGonagall.

There was the piercing sound of a whistle, and Oliver signaled for them to take their places on the pitch. Oliver landed at the center of the pitch near Madam Hooch, who would referee the match. Marcus Flint landed by Madam Hooch a moment later in his green robes, while Harry and the others took their positions in the sky.

He felt some of his anxiety return as he hovered above the teams with a menacing looking Terence Higgs floating across from him. While Madam Hooch said something about the rules, Harry let his gaze wander, searching the top boxes where professors and guests sat for his dad and godfather. They'd said they would come, but... A splash of red and gold caught his eye, and there were James, Sirius, and even Remus! Harry grinned. They'd come! And they were even wearing their old Gryffindor scarves. Next to them sat Professor Quirrell, whose turban stood out obviously amongst the other headwear.

Feeling somehow more secure in the fact that his dad, godfather, and unofficial godfather were there to watch him, Harry returned his attention just in time for the Golden Snitch to be released and the Quaffle to be tossed into the air. The chasers rushed after the Quaffle, and the match was on.

Harry rose higher above the pitch and started scanning for the Snitch while flying in a slow, almost lazy, pattern of circles. Meanwhile, Higgs was scanning across the pitch from him using a different searching method that had him zigzagging through the air with the occasional twist to look behind him. Five minutes passed with no sight of the Snitch, and Harry quickly decided that Lee's commentary was very unhelpful on the matter.

"Slytherin chasers are taking the Hawkshead Attacking Formation again!" Lee shouted before adding, "Don't they know any other formations?"

He looked down, and sure enough, the Slytherin chasers were in an arrowhead formation with Flint holding the Quaffle at the front of the trio with Pucey and Bletchley on either side of him. Alicia and Angelina charged towards them, but Pucey and Bletchley broke off from Flint to slam into them. Only the girls' quick broomwork kept them from getting knocked off their brooms, and they escaped relatively unscathed.

"That's Blatching!" Lee yelled angrily.

Madam Hooch didn't blow the whistle though, and Flint flew into the scoring area and threw the Quaffle. Harry's breath caught, expecting to hear the ding of a score, when Oliver suddenly appeared and caught the Quaffle. Harry released his breath, and Oliver tossed the Quaffle to Katie.

Lee announced, "Nice save by Oliver Wood! That'll show those Slytherins!" and faintly Harry thought he could hear McGonagall scolding him for not being an impartial announcer.

A Bludger went whipping across the pitch and hit the tail of Katie's broom, which caused her to drop the Quaffle while she tried to keep from losing control. Pucey scooped up the fallen Quaffle, and the Slytherins were rushing back toward the Gryffindor goalposts again.

Harry shook his head and tried to focus back on finding the Snitch. The breeze blew gently, and the sun shone brightly on many things in the stands that weren't the Snitch. During one of his circles, where he was trying very hard not to get absorbed in watching the rest of the match, a flash of gold caught his eye by the Slytherin goalposts. Leaning forward to pick up speed, Harry darted toward the Snitch, pushing the Nimbus as fast as it could go. He became unaware of anything but the sound of the cold wind against his ears and the sight of the Snitch hovering by the posts. The air screamed as a Bludger zoomed by his head, and Harry blinked. Suddenly Slytherin Keeper Miles Bletchley was blocking his path, and Harry had to pull up short to keep from colliding with the keeper. His heart pounding in his throat, Harry looked frantically for the Snitch, but it was gone. Bletchley was grinning darkly at him, so Harry shot him a scowl before ascending again to resume his search. Nearby Higgs was searching the area, probably hoping the Snitch hadn't gone too far.

"Damn, looks like the Snitch has been lost, folks," Lee said, "Potter blocked by keeper Bletchley."

"Jordan!" McGonagall scolded loudly enough for it to be picked up by the microphone's amplifying spell, "Do not swear! We discussed this!"

"Right, sorry, Professor. Wait! Katie Bell scores!" Cheering erupted from the Gryffindor section. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Harry grinned down at his team, but his teammates didn't have any time to celebrate. Already the Slytherins were on the offensive again. Fred and George hit Bludgers at the Slytherin chasers, but they either dodged them or one of their beaters knocked the Bludger away. Still, the green team was unable to score on Oliver, who caught and blocked Quaffles like he was born to it, even performing a perfectly executed Starfish and Stick, holding onto his broom with only one hand and foot each to reach a wildly thrown Quaffle.

The score was Gryffindor 10 : Slytherin 0, and it didn't seem like the numbers were going to change any time soon as Harry switched from his circling search pattern to a figure-8 one. Higgs was pulling a few stunts, pretending to dive like he'd seen the Snitch before pulling out of it and circling back up. Harry nearly fell for it the first time, quickly flying towards the Slytherin Seeker and looking about for the Snitch only to stop and sigh when he realized Higgs was trying to trick him. The brunet's actions kept him on the edge of his broomstick though, as one of those times Higgs really could spot the Snitch and Harry would have to hurry to catch up with him, let alone beat him to the Snitch.

A loud cry issued from the stands, and Lee shouted, "Wood's been hit!"

Harry spun around to look towards the goalposts and saw a red blur of robes fall through the air before landing heavily on the sand under the goalposts. A whistle blast pierced the air, and everyone halted in what they were doing, although some of them were already holding still in the air as they watched in either horror or glee. Madam Hooch flew down to Oliver and Madam Pomfrey came running onto the pitch.

"Wood's been knocked off his broom by a Bludger hit by Boyle," Lee announced grimly. "Hopefully he's all right. As for the Quaffle that entered the hoop after Wood's fall... Ten points to Slytherin."

There was a cheer from the Slytherin section, and a few moments later, Oliver was on a floating stretcher and being taken off the pitch by Madam Pomfrey, and Madam Hooch took to the air.

"Mr. Wood is unable to continue," Madam Hooch announced. "The match will resume shortly. Take your positions!"

Harry felt himself trembling as they flew back to the positions they'd started the game from, only missing Oliver. Oliver had fallen a long way, and it could be any one of them that might fall next. Was Oliver even going to be all right? Madam Hooch hadn't said.

The match resumed and Harry forced himself into a search pattern. The Slytherins were flying even more aggressively than before, and because they didn't have a reserve keeper, the Slytherins were soon scoring frequently while the Gryffindor chasers barely managed to score once more. When Harry looked for Fred and George he found the twins in a beater's battle with Derrick and Boyle, the beaters knocking Bludgers back at each other as quickly as they were returned.

"Ten points to Slytherin," Lee said without enthusiasm. "Slytherin's in the lead with sixty points, while Gryffindors far behind with twenty. Unless the girls figure out a strategy it looks like Slytherin won't need the Golden Snitch to win."

Harry growled under his breath and focused on looking a little harder. He knew what Lee said was true. If he didn't find the Snitch soon the girls would tire out and the Slytherins could easily score enough to surpass what Harry could gain them by catching the Snitch. The Snitch was nowhere in sight though, so Harry scowled and turned to look at Higgs, who floated about halfway across the pitch, looking bored as he swept his gaze through the air. Harry blinked and stared. Hovering right underneath Higgs, in the brunet's blind spot, was the Golden Snitch.

Slowly, Harry circled closer to Higgs, not wanting the other Seeker to realize the Snitch was there just as much as he didn't want to somehow startle the Snitch and make it take off. As he got closer and started to wonder when he should dart forward to hopefully catch the Snitch, it jerked left, then right, in a movement Harry recognized as one of the small ball's few tells that it was going to fly off soon, and then it shot downward.

Harry followed it.

"Hey!" Harry heard Lee shout even over the air rushing past his ears, "I think... Yes! Potter's found the Snitch, and Higgs is right on his tail!"

Harry sensed the bludgers coming at him before he saw them and swerved to dodge without taking his eyes off the Snitch as it continued flying straight down towards the earth. The bludgers zoomed past him, the air screaming as they cut their path, and Higgs knocked into his side. Harry spared the brunet only a short glance, knowing that dodging the bludgers had cost him enough speed for Higgs to catch up, and pressed his body as close to his broom handle as he could, trying to muster up as much speed as the Nimbus could give him.

The ground was coming up fast, and Harry felt Higgs pull out of the dive, but the Snitch was _right there_. The little golden ball pulled up with maybe a meter to spare, and when Harry pulled up after it the tail of his broom momentarily brushed the ground. The Snitch was flying in a straight line now, skimming above the pitch as fast as its silvery wings could take it. It was just barely out of reach, if he could get a little bit closer...

Without thinking it entirely through, Harry pulled a stunt he'd done only once before with Sirius when his dad wasn't home and he'd been going at a much slower pace. He removed his feet from the foot-grips and carefully lifted himself up to place his feet on the broom handle. Then, eyes focused on the Golden Snitch, Harry stood up, and reached out to grab it.

He must have overbalanced, because the next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground with a metal ball in his mouth. One of the Snitch's wings sticking out between his lips and the other triggering his gag reflex, Harry hurriedly spit the Snitch into his hand and made a face at the disgusting metallic taste left in his mouth.

"Does he... I can't tell. Does Potter have..."

Harry heard Lee and realized that he had the Snitch. He'd just scored Gryffindor one hundred fifty points. They'd won! As Madam Hooch flew over, Harry stood and held the Snitch up as high as he could.

"That... It is!" Lee yelled. "It's the Snitch! Harry Potter's caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, or the majority of them anyway, and Harry was soon surrounded by his teammates.

"Wow, mate!" Fred shouted over the noise as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"A Wronski Feint-" George said.

"That wasn't a feint!" Fred finished.

"And where'd you get the idea to stand on your broom?" Angelina asked, shaking her head.

"Who cares?" Alicia broke in, "We won! Party in the Common Room!"

The rest of Gryffindor house swarmed onto the pitch, including Oliver, whose arm was in a sling, and Harry soon found himself with a face full of bushy brown hair as Hermione hugged him tightly.

"What were you thinking!" She yelled over the crowd, "That was so dangerous!"

Harry just laughed, feeling giddy, and joined Neville and Ron in chanting 'We won!' several times over. He wasn't even bothered by being surrounded by so many people, too happy over the victory to care.

••••••••

Harry left Gryffindor's Quidditch Quarters in high spirits and with Fred and George at his sides. However, they didn't make it very far before Harry heard a call of his name.

"Dad!" Harry shouted when he saw James approaching, Sirius and Remus with him. He waved Fred and George on, and the twins continued to the castle while Harry ran over to his family. James wrapped him in a hug the moment he was within range, and Harry hugged him back hard. Breathlessly he asked, "What did you think of the match?"

"You scared me half to death!" James said immediately, hugging him closer. "Don't you know how dangerous stunts like that are?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Ah, just leave him be, James," Sirius said laughingly, "It's not like you weren't just as bad when you were on the team." Sirius grinned. "Good job, Bambi. That was an impressive catch!"

"Yes, congratulations on your victory, Harry," Remus said as he adjusted his old Gryffindor scarf.

"Moony!" He broke away from James and gave his unofficial godfather a careful hug. "How are you?"

"What? No hug for me?" Sirius pouted.

Harry grinned and released Remus before giving his godfather a tight hug. He laughed, "There, satisfied?"

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "Now I am."

"Um, Harry, I wanted to talk to you about something," James said. Harry looked to him and found his dad rubbing the back of his head in a sort of nervous gesture.

Frowning at the rare sight, Harry said, "Sure, what about?"

"Let's walk a bit, yeah?" James suddenly started walking towards the lake, and Harry hurried after him, Sirius and Remus following a few paces behind. Once Harry caught up, James gave him a sidelong glance and started, "It's about your mum."

Harry felt as if all his happiness from catching the Snitch was blown out of him by a strong wind. "What about her?" he asked.

"I talked to her about how much time she spends with you. She said that she asks you to come along when she goes out, but that you generally choose to stay home because her friends are _boring_ , and that you're old enough to be alone by yourself for a few hours, especially since the house elves are there." James paused. "I told her I didn't approve of you being left alone like that." Harry tensed, and James continued while keeping a watchful eye on him, "She wasn't happy about that. Or about any of the other questions I asked. She kept dodging around who her friends actually were. Harry," James stopped and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him too. Behind them, Harry heard Sirius and Remus' footsteps halt. "Do you know who any of her friends are? Heard any names?"

A trembling started in Harry's hands, so he quickly clenched them into fists and shoved them in his robe pockets. He was being interrogated. Interrogated by his dad about his mother. It was there, in the tone of James' voice when he asked those questions, the Auror. It was something he'd only heard a few times before, mostly when James was regaling them with a tale about how a minor case had gone, but this was different. What should he say? What would happen if he told his dad the truth?

"You won't tell her?" The words seemed to pop out of him before Harry could really consider them. But they were out now. He looked up at his dad, and brown eyes with lines of worry around them, but there was a hard set to his jaw. "You won't tell Mother what I say?" Harry looked back at his godfather and unofficial godfather. Sirius looked dark, his aura kicking up, and Remus pained. "None of you will."

"No," James whispered.

Harry looked down and took a deep breath. There was so much that could go wrong, but... If his dad believed him, even just a little, maybe things would get better.

"I don't know all of them," he began, "there are too many. The house elves know more than I do. When I ask where she is sometimes they'll tell me a name. There's been a Mr. Leopold, I think he's new. Victoria Greengrass is a pretty common one. Um, a David, too. Those are the more recent ones, anyway, from summer." He started to fidget a bit, wondering what else he should say, when James gave his shoulder a slight squeeze.

James said, "Thank you, Harry, that's enough," but there was a sort of distant look in his eyes that Harry didn't like. After a moment though, James seemed to shake it off, and smiled at Harry. "Don't worry about your mother anymore. I'll take care of everything. It's probably my fault as it is," James said, his smile becoming self-depreciating. "I work too much. Lily's probably feeling a bit lonely and going out to compensate for it."

Harry heard Sirius snort derisively at his dad's words and found himself agreeing with his godfather. "It's not your fault," Harry said shortly. A stern note entering his voice. When James looked at him in surprise he reaffirmed, "It's not."

"Alright, Bambi." James gave Harry's shoulder another soft squeeze and cleared his throat. "Anyway, don't worry about any of that now. I'll have it well in hand, and if you ever need anything, you can always contact one of us," James said, turning to gesture to Sirius and Remus.

Remus nodded and said, "We'll be there in a heartbeat."

"Anything for you, pup," said Sirius, and Harry heard more than the usual amount of weight falling behind those words. But then Sirius smiled his crooked, mischievous smile. "Now, I think you have a victory party to attend," he pulled a brown-wrapped package out of his pocket and enlarged it with a quick spell before handing it to Harry, "and what's a party without some of Zonko's fireworks?"

••••••••

Harry hurried up to the castle with the package of fireworks tucked into his robe pocket, but he did not go to the Tower. Instead he slipped through some of the secret passages, avoiding other people, and headed back out of the castle. He passed through the Clock Tower Courtyard and walked quickly along the Wooden Bridge only to stop in the middle of it to look out over the deep ravine below. A vaguely sick feeling was settling in his stomach, but not at the almost dizzying drop beneath him.

After so many years of concealing things about his mother from his dad, it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that James now knew some of the truth and was likely going to find out more. It was all a bit overwhelming, and Harry was certain he couldn't withstand the cramped quarters of the Gryffindor Common Room with how he felt. On one hand, he was relieved that James knew some of it and that Harry wouldn't have to hide so much from him. On the other hand, Lily would likely be very angry with both him and his dad, and James hadn't asked about what his mother threatened him with to keep him from saying anything prior to now. These thoughts made his gut twist and confused him. What _should_ he be feeling?

But, James had said to leave it all to him, and Harry trusted his dad. Taking a deep breath of the clear air above the ravine, he pushed all the awful thoughts away and stuck a hand in his pocket, feeling the package of fireworks inside. A smile worked its way onto his face. People at the party would surely enjoy the fireworks. He knew he would.

Turning to walk back to the castle, he was startled to see Hagrid moving towards him from the courtyard end of the bridge. The large man was wearing a clumsily knitted scarlet and gold scarf and called out to Harry upon seeing him, "'Arry, is that you? What are ya doing way out here? Thought you would've been at the party."

Harry shifted a little nervously and said, "It was a little crowded for me, so I thought I'd walk for a while."

"Oh? That so?" Hagrid said, stopping in front of Harry now. "Well if that's the case why don't you come down for tea? I've a fresh batch of rock cakes waitin', so long as Fang didn't get into 'em."

The very thought of rock cakes almost made Harry wish he'd gone straight to the party, and the fireworks in his pocket were another great enticement. However, with Hagrid standing there, his smile hidden by his beard but visible in how lines crinkled about his eyes, Harry suddenly imagined Hagrid giving that same smile to an overexcited puppy with three heads.

"Sure," Harry said, "that sounds great."

 **A/N:** Is the idea of Hagrid with a three-headed puppy cute, or what? I hope my Quidditch writing didn't suck. I've never written a sports scene before, and that was the majority of this chapter lol. Anyway, reviews are very appreciated! Constructive criticism, questions (answered via PM), and other comments are welcome!

Thanks for reading! ~ HowlingRain


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